


Saints and Sinners

by Tobiko



Category: Degrassi, Degrassi the Next Generation, Degrassi: Next Class
Genre: Past Rape/Non-con, Rape Aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 21:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9257123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tobiko/pseuds/Tobiko
Summary: Zoë Rivas and Becky Baker's relationship is more than just complicated, there isn't a word for the issues between them.





	1. Chapter 1

Schemes and manipulation came naturally to Zoë Rivas. All part of the life of a former child star, but somehow Power Cheer captain had become the most important job she’d ever had. She had friends now, sisters, and losing them was a constant fear at the back of her mind.

Zoë knew she wasn’t a likable person. No one would ever stick around her for _her_ , they’d only be by her side if she was the one with the power. So she had to keep that power, she had to hold on to those reins with an iron grip. Degrassi Nudes was working out, through a lot of hard work and Grace’s management on the OomfChat side. But the girls kept balking. That Frankie Hollingsworth, putting doubt into the girls’ minds. Frankie was always fucking Zoë over, first the trial and now Power Cheer. Frankie was not going to get the best of Zoë, not this time.

Kicking her off Power Cheer had actually been pretty cathartic.

She didn’t feel bad for how she’d gotten to the top. She couldn’t afford to. And really, how bad was taking nudes to sell when no one knew it was your body on display? At least they had control over how their nudes were distributed. Zoë felt a thrill of vindication every time she viewed the bank account and saw the double zeroes. This was her doing. This was her choice.

.

Zoë organized bake sales to explain the money pouring in from Degrassi Nudes, and she put on her best show smile any time someone she didn’t want to interact with came to purchase a cupcake from their stand. Which is how Zoë found herself smiling a jaw-breaking smile at Becky Baker, parroting, “Thank you for supporting Degrassi Power Cheer” and watching Becky’s face mirror her own in a fake smile back. Those Bible thumpers, they really gave professional actors a run for their money.

“Zoë,” Becky said, a waver in her voice as she tried to stand tall.

Zoë’s grin stayed put even as her anger rose. The victory of seeing Becky fall and break her leg had been short lived. Sure, it had been delicious when it had happened, but a few days later the vividness of that image faded in her head, but Becky’s words still lingered. A _distraction_. Like what had happened was her fault and not the fault of Becky’s rapist brother. “Becky,” she acknowledged, voice molded plastic.

“Can we talk? In private?”

Zoë’s eyes narrowed and her smile went from full teeth to lips pressed together tightly. “In private? I don’t think we have anything to talk about in private.”

Becky’s eyes darted down toward the floor and she briefly closed them. “I should have done this well before now. You deserved an apology weeks ago.”

Zoë’s smile completely dropped. Her mother would be ashamed to see that Zoë couldn’t hold a smile through something as simple as this. But how dare Becky, after what’d she’d said? What she’d tried to deny Zoë, the friends she’d made? Becky could burn in hell with her brother for all Zoë cared.

“I thought maybe you might want to do this privately, but if you don’t, I’ll say it here because I owe it to you, Zoë. I was horrible to you. I have no good excuses. I wanted Power Cheer to be my new start, and the idea of having you join made me feel like I’d have to relive last semester again and again-“

“Because cheering on the same team as my rapist’s sister is definitely my idea of a fun time,” Zoë snarled, her cool definitely flown out the window. Behind her she heard Lola squeak and she knew that the team was eavesdropping. Let them hear. Let them see what a bullet they’d dodged when they’d lost Becky Baker as captain.

Becky’s lips trembled but to Zoë’s surprise she managed to meet her eyes. “I know. When you auditioned, I couldn’t believe you’d want to be anywhere near me. But you didn’t hold what my brother did to you against _me_. And _I_ held it against _you_. I thought not blaming you for the assault made it alright for me to blame you for other things, like me being a good person about one thing exempt me from doing the right thing in other ways. I was wrong, selfish. I hurt you. I’m _so_ sorry, Zoë. I’m not asking you to forgive me. I’m apologizing because you deserve to hear an apology from me.” Becky looked past Zoë at where the team was assembled behind her, watching the confrontation. She gave them a watery smile. “You’ve done an amazing job with the team. They have a great captain.”

“Damn straight,” Zoë said, though her mind was reeling.

Becky pulled out a 20 and said “keep the change” as she took a cupcake, before turning and beating a hasty retreat.

.

Becky’s apology plagued Zoë’s thoughts, mostly with strong variations of “the gall” and “that bitch”, but Becky’s swimming blue eyes kept popping into her head, too. God, had Zoë ever seen the girl _not_ on the verge of tears? Once or twice… the vast majority of times Zoë had ever made eye contact with Becky she’d been near breaking down. Hell, half of Zoë’s own mental images of Becky were blurry, seen through tears and humiliation. Now Zoë was just getting her life back, she was just finding her place at Degrassi, and she still had to deal with Becky Baker’s tear-filled eyes.

The thing about Becky Baker… Zoë didn’t know how to explain her relationship with the girl to an outside observer. Once, Becky had been her… hero? No, that wasn’t the right word. Because Becky was so tied to her brother, to Zoë’s rapist, “hero” wasn’t the right word for it. “Savior” might be closer, but even that was wrong. Becky hadn’t “saved” her from the assault. She hadn’t saved her from all the shame, the hatred, the horror. But Becky had been able to do something no one else had: Becky had been able to give her justice.

Once, Zoë had admired Becky. They’d only ever talked the one time after Luke and Neil’s arrest, when Zoë had hugged Becky and thanked her for turning the videos over to the police. Even that had been against the advisement of her lawyer. She wasn’t supposed to talk to Becky or anyone else related to the case until after the trial. But Zoë had had to say _something_ , had to thank her for what she had done. After that she’d seen Becky in passing but they’d only ever exchanged strained smiles or avoided looking at each other in the hallways. Zoë was grateful for what Becky had done, but she also symbolized the case, the crime, her brother.

Zoë hadn’t been there for Becky’s testimony in court. She’d been contemplating suicide on an empty school bus, only saved by Zig’s intervention. So Zoë had missed the part where Becky had not only testified to seeing the videos, but also saying Luke told her that he had assaulted Zoë. Tristan had filled her in on that amazing turn of events. She could hardly believe it.

Zoë had never thanked Becky for that part of her role in Luke and Neil being found guilty, but when Zoë had seen that Becky was the one organizing Power Cheer it hadn’t deterred her from joining in the slightest. Becky was a good person, Becky was someone Zoë could actually look up to, depend on.

And then Becky had proven she was just as back stabbing as every other person in Zoë’s life.

That showed her. How could Zoë have ever believed in anyone actually standing by her?

No. An apology wasn’t good enough.

.

Zoë asked around as discreetly as possible and finally heard from Jack that Becky had joined a band after losing Power Cheer. That sounded incredibly strange, but Zoë found it was true when she tracked down the band in an empty classroom. Becky was singing at the top of her lungs as some Goth boy played the guitar and harmonized with her.

Without waiting for a pause Zoë said loudly, “I don’t forgive you for what you said. You were a complete bitch to me.”

The gross Goth stopped playing and looked at her first. Zoë pointedly ignored him. As Becky turned to face her the Goth started to say, “You can’t just barge in here and insult-“

“Jonah, it’s fine,” Becky said quietly. She nodded at Zoë. “Okay. That’s fair.”

“I’m not a distraction because I was raped,” Zoë said firmly.

“You’re right.”

“You’re awful.”

“I was.”

“… If you really want me to take you seriously buy me a coffee at The Dot. We’ll see how well you can stand the presence of the little ho that got your brother thrown in jail.”

Becky flinched at Zoë’s words and Zoë smirked, confident that Becky would never take her up on that offer.

“Don’t call yourself that.”

Zoë was thrown off. She hadn’t expected that. “…what?”

“Don’t call yourself a “ho”. That’s a mean thing to say about yourself.”

“I was being sarcastic,” Zoë said quietly, her face a practiced neutral to hide the confusion roiling through her gut.

“Even so. Please don’t. We can have a coffee. After school?”

Zoë swallowed around the sudden lump that had formed in her throat. “Three thirty. Sharp,” she replied, trying to grab back the control of the conversation.

Becky nodded. “Three thirty. I’ll be there.”

Zoë turned on her heel and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to amethystbeloved for being my Beta!!


	2. Chapter 2

Zoë arrived at The Dot 15 minutes late. It was a purposeful choice, she wanted Becky to know who was calling the shots. It was also to throw Becky off balance, intended to make her squirm. So when Zoë arrived to find Becky sitting there peacefully, her homework spread out in front of her and like she wasn’t there to buy a coffee for someone, Zoë fumed. Becky just sitting there like she hadn’t a care in the world infuriated Zoë. What right did Becky have to be so calm, so put together, when she was such a fucking bitch?

Zoë threw open the door of The Dot, but it lacked the intended effect as the door refused to slam. Stupid door hinges. The creation of unslammable doors had really ruined some dramatic flourishes. She went to the table and dropped her bag on part of Becky’s homework. “I see you’ve settled in nicely.”

Becky jumped when Zoë’s bag landed. She closed her eyes and seemed to swallow down a retort. “Hello Zoë,” she said with a measured calm.

“Hello Becky,” Zoë replied with obvious mockery. She sat down and said, “Chai latte, no whip.”

Becky seemed not to understand. It took her a moment to catch up and then her eyes widened. “Oh, is that your order?”

“Not the smartest blonde out there, are you?”

“You have a right to be mad at me, to hate me even, but I’m not willing to sit here and be insulted forever,” Becky said evenly, her blue eyes not leaving Zoë’s face. “I’m not here for a round of self-flagellation, thank you.”

Zoë rolled her eyes. “I don’t understand why you’re here at _all_.”

“I’m here to make amends.”

“And what if you can’t?”

Becky shrugged, her eyes sorrowful but her lips pressed firm. “Then I can’t. There’s no obligation for you to forgive me, and there’s no guarantee that my apologizing will even help at all with the hurt I caused you. I just really hope that it does.”

Zoë didn’t trust a word of it. Becky wanted to feel better about how she’d treated Zoë, she didn’t care how Zoë actually felt. Becky stood. “I’m going to go order us our drinks,” she said as she stood. Becky hobbled over to the counter and ordered from the dark haired man behind it. Zoë noticed that Becky’s weird friend Imogen was sitting at the counter and when Becky ended up next to her, Imogen put a hand on Becky’s arm and cast a quick glare Zoë’s way. Zoë glared coldly back.

When Becky returned with their drinks Zoë asked, “So you had to bring a body guard with you, huh? Scared of me?”

Becky’s face opened again in wide-eyed confusion, looking behind her. “Who, Imogen?” Zoë lifted her chin in acknowledgment. Becky gave Zoë a small smile. “Not at all. Immy comes to The Dot a lot after school. The guy behind the counter is her friend, he just got a job here. I think it’s been difficult for Eli, he always planned for film school. This is a little off the path he wanted.”

“That guy? Film school?” Zoë asked, raising an eyebrow as she looked at the boy making a cappuccino. Now that Zoë knew, she could easily see it. He was the exact kind of pretentious writer-type who was always showing up on West Drive determined to make the show more artistic and dramatic. They always burned out or sold out and wrote the popcorn storylines they’d proclaimed to hate. Maybe it was better that he had washed out, or whatever had happened to him. “Good to know the trajectory of a Degrassi alum.”

“Don’t be mean, Zoë,” Becky chided.

“What, I am mean. It’s a defining characteristic of mine.”

“That’s very sad.”

Zoë bristled. “Better than other characteristics, like sociopathic rapist.” _Or like victim._

“You do realize that I know what my brother did, right?” Becky asked, her voice cracking on the word “brother”. “I testified against him, I made sure that he got punished for what he did. You pointing it out again and again isn’t going to make me believe it, because I already know.”

“Something in your family is rotten, to raise a guy like that,” Zoë spat.

“But doesn’t that also mean something in my family is good? If I was able to do something so painful to do the right thing?” Becky said, her voice rising on the verge of hysteria. Zoë realized that Becky was really asking, she really wanted to know.

Zoë stayed silent.

Becky breathed hard for a few minutes, the color in her cheeks finally going back down from red to pink.

“… he wasn’t just your brother, right? He was your twin?”

Becky let out a dry chuckle. “No. Everyone thinks so, but we were Irish twins.”

“What does that mean?”

“We were born 11 months apart. That’s why we were in the same school year.”

“Fertile mother you’ve got there,” Zoë said. Becky’s eyebrows shot upward and she opened her mouth to say something, but Zoë barreled on, “So you didn’t share a womb at the same time? That’s comforting.”

Becky closed her mouth again, looking down at her drink. She looked like she had so much to say, but wisely she stayed silent. Becky was smart enough not to spill her guts about her feelings towards her brother to her brother’s rape victim.

“I’m not a distraction,” Zoë found herself saying again. She hadn’t realized she was about to say it until it was most of the way out of her mouth.

“No, you aren’t,” Becky replied. She didn’t sound surprised that Zoë had reiterated the fact. “You went through something terrible, and everyone was awful to you and spread around your pictures and gossip, but you as a person are not at fault for any of that. You aren’t a distraction.”

Zoë stared at Becky, holding her drink in both of her hands without taking a sip. Becky kept her eyes down, her own drink untouched in front of her.

“… I never thanked you for what you did at the trial.”

Becky’s body went rigid. Very slowly she looked back up at Zoë. “You don’t need to-“

“I should, maybe,” Zoë interrupted, putting her cheek in her palm and looking towards the side so she could avoid Becky’s searching eyes. “Not everyone would do that.”

“I suppose not. But it was the right thing-“

“No one gives two shits about the right thing, Becky,” Zoë interrupted again, trying and failing not to glare at someone two tables over in her quest not to glare at Becky. “No one. Except, apparently, for Saint Becky. Do you know how infuriating that is?”

“I- I don’t- what do you mean?”

“I’m _thankful_ ,” Zoë snarled, like the word tasted nasty in her mouth. “And it’s _you_. Becky Baker, whose brother Luke Baker filmed himself raping me at a party when I was helpless. Why did it have to be you? Why couldn’t someone else have stolen his phone, or seen it, or stopped-“ Zoë swallowed the rest of that thought, her teeth grinding together as she worked to stop herself from crying. “Why did it have to be you?”

Zoë glanced back briefly and looked away again. Tears were streaming down Becky’s face and Zoë didn’t want to see it. Becky’s voice wavered through the air when she spoke. “I don’t know why it was me. I don’t know why these things happen. I don’t know why no one stopped it. It seems like every step, someone failed you, and the only person who could help you being me is like a cruel joke. I’m so sorry it was me. I’m so sorry you have to look at me and see everything that you hate.”

Zoë’s cheek was raw as she bit at it to keep herself contained. Becky didn’t say any more, just waited.

“I don’t hate you.”

Becky’s voice was still thick with tears but it was laced with confusion when she asked, “What?”

“It’s horrible. I don’t hate you. Well, I mean, I did. After not allowing me on the squad. But before that… and now… I don’t hate you. Which is annoying and stupid and _god_ , I can’t be any more pissed at myself for that fact. I wish I did. I wish I hated you so I could go all out, trip you in the halls and make your life a misery. But as it is I just… really want to avoid you? So I don’t have to deal with the fact that when I see you I _don’t_ want to hurt you back.” Zoë’s hands tightened around her mug. “It makes me feel weak. I’m _not_ weak.”

“Oh, Zoë,” Becky breathed. “Zoë, you aren’t weak. Forgiveness isn’t weak. You’re an incredibly strong person, Zoë.”

Zoë looked at Becky incredulously. “Strong?”

“Yes. Gosh, yes!” Becky leaned forward and Zoë felt herself leaning back. Becky backed off, but her eyes were blazing bright. “You’ve been through the most intense scrutiny for something that wasn’t your fault! People told awful lies about you, they judged you, they tormented you! And you’re still here, still standing. You’re captain of Power Cheer, you have friends and you don’t let anyone mess with you. Zoë, don’t you know how incredible that all is?”

Zoë could barely breathe, her chest and throat felt tight like something was pressing down on them. Becky didn’t know. She didn’t know how weak she really was. How she’d almost ended her life. How she stomped down her Power Cheer teammates so they couldn’t leave her or turn on her first.

Becky looked at her and saw a miracle. What a crock of bullshit.

“You shouldn’t think so highly of me,” Zoë said. She immediately regretted it. Rule one of public image: never tell people you are less than the most amazing, astounding person in the world. Something about Becky had made her speak the truth instead of lying through her teeth.

Did Zoë still feel indebted to Becky? Is that how the stupid blonde could get her to be so vulnerable?

Becky looked past Zoë’s head for a few moments, seeming to completely zone out. When she looked at Zoë again the expression on her face made Zoë want to shrink into the floor. “I wish you didn’t say those things about yourself. This isn’t the first time I’ve heard you talk in a bad way about yourself, and you don’t deserve that. I think you’re a remarkable person, Zoë, even if you do everything you can to try and hide that.”

Zoë tried to think of anything to say, but before she could Imogen walked up behind Becky and said in a not-so-kind voice, “How’s it going over here?” while giving Zoë a pointed look. Zoë immediately shut down the thought of replying to Becky in any meaningful way, smoothing her face back into a scowl.

Becky noticed the changed and started, “Zoë, wait-“, but Zoë was already up and out of her seat.

“Everything is fine,” she said, tossing her hair over one shoulder. “I should get going. Lots of things to do for Power Cheer.” Ignoring Becky’s protests she left, shaking off the last of the conversation before she was five steps out the door.

.

Someone was trying to blackmail the squad. Zoë had tried to fix it, tried to wriggle out from under the thumb of the blackmailer, but nothing had worked. She’d shut Degrassi Nudes down, what more did the bastard want? She was sitting under the stairs and staring at the blackmail messages, chewing on the side of her thumb anxiously and trying desperately to think of how to fix this. The squad was so mad at her. She knew they had to stick together, but she saw the looks on their faces: they’d turn on her in a heartbeat if she allowed it. It was just like on set. No one liked her for her, they liked her for what she could do for them, what she held over them.

She didn’t want to lose the squad. They were her friends… some of her only friends. She’d never had so many friends before and she didn’t want to lose them.

What was she going to do?

“Zoë?”

Zoë glanced up to see that Becky was giving her a look of concern from where she’d just descended the stairs. Imogen was beside her and her look was far less kind. Becky seemed to pick up on Zoë’s unhappiness at seeing Imogen and turned to her friend. “Hey, Immy, I’ll catch up with you in a sec, okay?”

“Are you sure?” Imogen asked, her mistrustful gaze still on Zoë.

“I’m positive. I’ll be right there.”

Zoë watched Becky approach with wary eyes, and when Becky stopped in front of her, Zoë said, “Did I say I wanted you to talk to me?”

“No, but you looked like you could use a friend.”

“I have plenty of friends. You aren’t one of them.”

“I’m not asking to be your friend for more than the few minutes that we sit here,” Becky said. She sat down next to Zoë, making sure there was a good amount of space between them. “None of your real friends are here right now and I hate the thought of leaving you when you look so distraught.”

“You read too much into things, Baker,” Zoë grumbled, immediately regretting the use of Becky’s last name to address her. It was far too much of a connection to her brother.

“I didn’t ask for your help, Becky. I don’t need anyone’s help.”

Becky looked conflicted, like she wasn’t certain that she had made the right call. Unfortunately, Zoë wasn’t very good at selling the lie. In that moment, all of her acting skills failed her and her stubborn face fell to reveal a flash of fear. It was gone in a heartbeat, but she couldn’t put the uncaring face back into place, so she settled for glaring at her phone.

“Sorry for assuming,” Becky said, watching Zoë’s face carefully. “I know our relationship has been less than easy, but I want you to know if you ever need to talk-“

“I don’t _want_ to talk.”

“”Want” and “need” can be pretty different things.” Becky folded her hands in her lap and settled in, shifting her left leg so it was in a more comfortable position. Clearly she had decided to stick this out even though Zoë had told her to take a hike. Why was Becky so stubborn? Zoë made a pointed effort not to look at Becky’s busted leg as it lay stretched out in front of her. It wasn’t like Zoë felt guilty about it, exactly, but it was weird that they’d mostly smoothed over the Power Cheer feud but Becky still had visible consequences from it. Zoë hadn’t thought about how _long_ Becky could say hurt.

“Well, I don’t _need_ to talk either,” Zoë said.

Becky gave Zoë an annoyingly knowing smile. “Okay. That’s alright. But here, let me give you something.” Becky pulled out a notebook and wrote something down, then tore out the paper and handed it to Zoë. “My number. If you ever need an ear.”

At the beginning of the school year, Zoë would have made a big show of crumpling up the paper and tossing it in the trash. Instead of doing that, Zoë looked down at the paper. After a few seconds she folded it up and put it in her backpack without a word.

Becky beamed at this and stood, seemingly satisfied. “I’ll see you around school, Zoë. Remember what I said.”

“See you around, Becky,” Zoë said dryly, not bothering to look up from her phone.

She didn’t realize until after Becky was long gone that her hands were shaking.

.

Zoë will swear up and down that she wasn’t the one who texted first, but since Becky didn’t have her number to begin with this is an outright lie.

However it _did_ start, Zoë and Becky began to text on a semi-regular basis, for the most part trading superficial chatter, primarily about Power Cheer. How the girls were doing, what routines they were practicing, that sort of stuff. Zoë never _asked_ for advice, because that would be giving away her power, but sometimes Becky offered thoughts in a roundabout way. Zoë knew that Becky was trying to help without making Zoë feel like she was trying to coach. Zoë never called her on it, but she was impressed by Becky’s subtle manipulation skills. They almost put her mother’s to shame.

Zoë was on all the social media websites, and she got constant notifications pinging on her phone, but getting actual texts was rarer for her. Most of her Power Cheer chatting was done on a Facerange messenger group chat, the girls only messaging her through texts when they needed a question answered. The only person who texted her consistently was Tristan. At one point she was looking down at her phone and knowing there was a 50/50 chance that it was Tristan or the blackmailer texting her. Now she had Becky as an option, too, which made the text noise of her phone a lot less frightening.


	3. Chapter 3

When the blackmailer proved to not be Hunter, Zoë seethed. Of course, of course it was back to Frankie. That conniving little bitch. It wasn’t enough for her to almost ruin Zoë’s life with her testimony in court or for her to try and turn all of the squad against her, she had to get them in trouble, too. Telling on the squad would ruin them. And Frankie still claimed to be friends with some of them!

Frankie had never been a good friend. Not to Zoë, and now not to Shay or Lola. Frankie was willing to turn on them the same way she had Zoë.

Well, Zoë wasn’t gonna let that happen. She wasn’t going to let Frankie Hollingsworth ruin the _one_ good thing Zoë had at Degrassi.

So Zoë tricked Frankie into thinking she’d be welcomed back on Power Cheer and snapped a picture of Frankie mid-change, blackmail for the blackmailer. It was the only boob picture with a face attached, making Frankie the only one that any person could identify. The faculty wasn’t going to go on a Match-The-Boobs expedition, talk about illegal.

Frankie stood there and called Zoë a villain.

Despite everything, it stung more than it should have. Zoë had been called worse. Hell, Zoë would claim the title of “villain” if it meant that nobody messed with her! She would cackle evilly and rub her hands together like a cartoon evil mastermind if it meant that no one could ever fuck with her, hurt her, ever again. Never again.

She didn’t feel bad about owning a nude picture of Frankie that Frankie hadn’t consented to. She couldn’t. She didn’t. She DIDN’T.

Plenty of people owned pictures of Zoë without her permission. So what if Zoë had the one of Frankie, especially if it would never see the light of day if Frankie kept her stupid mouth shut.

She didn’t feel bad.

Right before going on stage to give a speech to the entire student body about how Nudes Are Wrong, she got a text from Becky.

_“Sorry I’m not going to make it to your big speech, but good luck! It’s so brave of you to do this!”_

Brave? Manipulative, clever, self-serving. Not brave. Something like guilt coiled in her gut, snaking up towards her throat. She sent off a text in reply.

_“Don’t be stupid.”_

What felt like seconds later she got a ping back.

_“No, seriously! Don’t sell yourself short, Zo. You always do. I’m gonna start charging you every time you’re down on yourself. You should know you’re really amazing.”_

Becky fucking Baker. Why? Why was she always doing this to Zoë? Making her second guess herself, making her feel more- more like she should be nicer, or better, or-… Zoë didn’t even know.

And it wasn’t even like she didn’t sometimes think those things herself, she was at the very least not one hundred percent the monster people saw her as. She wasn’t _all_ villain.

But Becky brought those thoughts to the surface more than Zoe would like. Definitely more than Zoë needed them brought up, when all Zoë wanted to do was survive in a world that was out to eat her whole.

Zoë closed the message window and went up to give her speech. But when she got up there, she couldn’t read the speech she’d half-assed. She looked out at the student body of Degrassi and saw her squad, and she saw Frankie, and she couldn’t do it.

She put her prepared speech down, swallowed the guilt in her throat, and started, “Everyone’s been talking about the girls who did this. But we all know they aren’t the first to share nudes online. Some do it willingly, while others, like me, have had their image shared without permission. When you think about showing your buddy a sexy photo of your girlfriend or buying nude shots or taking a compromising picture without permission and putting it online-“ her chest tightened as she found herself looking at Frankie, the little Hollingsworth’s doe eyes big, and she felt the weight of her phone in her pocket. “… you have a choice. You can be villains, and do those things… or you can act heroically and resist that urge. We’ve all done things we regret. But today we have the chance to move forward. We all deserve it.” _~~Do you deserve it, Zo?~~_ “No… we demand it.”

Frankie didn’t clap when Zoë finished her speech. Zoë noticed and looked back down. That was fine, Frankie had every right not to. She looked at her phone.

Zoë didn’t want to be the type of monster, the type of villain, who would do to someone else what had been done to her. Especially not _that_. She deleted Frankie’s picture.

And then her phone dinged.

Everyone’s phone dinged.

Zoë was face to face with a photoshopped picture of herself, Shay, and Lola, heads plastered on top of censored nudes. It hit her like a truck. Her first thought was “not again, this was supposed to be on my terms”.

Her second thought, following closely behind, was “Fuck”.

Zoë held back her tears of humiliation as she marched her way to Principal Simpson’s office.

.

Zoë thought, _This is what you get for being nice. For not going for the throat._

She could have done it. She could have ruined Frankie Hollingsworth with the push of a button. Instead, she deleted her leverage. And she had to fabricate fake leverage to get her revenge. 

Her weakness, her _compassion_ , could have ruined her. 

Maybe that’s why she went all out making that Facerange page. It hadn’t taken five seconds. She’d spent an entire night making it. Heck, she’d even texted Grace for some advice on formatting without telling her exactly what it was for. Zoë didn’t get the sense that Grace would entirely approve. It wasn’t like Zoë and Grace were friends, but they were business partners and she wasn’t horribly offended by Zoë’s presence or questions. She did fairly quickly get a “I’m done helping now” text from Grace, but by then she had answered enough questions anyway.

Luckily, she’d managed to get Mr. Simpson off her back, but she knew that Degrassi Nudes would be investigated and Power Cheer would be examined under a microscope.

She had to keep it together. For her squad. For herself. Zoë wasn’t going to be put through the media circus ringer again.

And if Frankie’s rich daddy had to buy a really good lawyer to bail his precious little princess out of this jam, whatever. He had the money and the clout. She’d be fine. Not that Zoë really cared.

You couldn’t trust anybody. That was the bottom line. You couldn’t trust boys, because they only wanted one thing, which had been proven definitively that morning she’d woken up naked in the Hollingsworth pool house. And you couldn’t trust girls because they were always out to stab each other in the back.

Zoë could call the squad her sisters all she wanted: she still couldn’t trust them. They’d turn on her if they could. She wondered how anybody ever sustained friendships with the constant worry of being betrayed. It must be exhausting for everyone else, too, but they made it seem effortless.

Tristan wasn’t hard, but that was because he was her snarky gay counterpart. She didn’t have to worry about Tris getting handsy and she knew that she could say most of the terrible thoughts she had and he wouldn’t get all judgey on her. Or, no, he got judgey, but he wasn’t about to try and _change_ who she was, make a shame-shame finger gesture at her and “tsk” at how she was so naughty. He accepted her for herself. The first person who ever had.

And, weirdly, Becky wasn’t shaping up to be too hard either. Sure, there was the sticking point where whenever Zoë saw Becky’s last name written out her heart leapt in her throat. But she’d take a breath, picture Becky’s eyes, her smile. Pushing Luke out of her head was getting easier.

Zoë wanted to trust Jack, Lola, Shay, and all the rest. But she heard them whisper, she saw their glances at one another, and fear churned in her chest. She knew those whispers and those looks. She’d grown up seeing them on set. She wasn’t a Frankie Hollingscrybaby, bursting into tears whenever she thought someone might dislike her. It still wasn’t easy to keep her captain’s cool.

Zoë knew she had to deal with this Degrassi Nudes mess and pin it all on Frankie so Power Cheer didn’t get caught. If she didn’t fix it, everything would be over for her.


	4. Chapter 4

After Frankie confronted Zoë in the hallway, deciding to go the “how could you DO this after what HAPPENED to you” route, Zoë needed a breather. She ducked into the library, intent on going to the back and trying to find the most deserted corner so she could close her eyes and clear her thoughts for the upcoming competition. Fortunately for Zoë, the only person in the corner she’d picked happened to be Becky, of all people. Becky’s left leg was propped up on a chair next to her but was missing any sort of brace.

“Your leg all better?”

Becky looked up from her textbook and smiled in surprise. “Oh, Zoë! Yeah, you haven’t seen me since it came off, have you? I’m all patched up.”

“That’s good,” Zoë said as she sat down across from Becky. They’d been talking but she hadn’t mentioned the brace coming off, probably because Zoë had been part of the cause of her injury in the first place. Becky was just the kind of person to try hard to put things behind her and not bring them up for petty reasons.

“It’s certainly easier to get around,” Becky said. “How did your speech go, by the way? I heard-“ Becky trailed off, here cheeks flushing as she seemed to remember something.

“You heard that there was a fun mass text sent out to the school?” Zoë asked dryly. “Didn’t you get it, too?”

Becky shook her head. “My phone screen cracked a few days ago. We sent it in for repairs and I’m using my mom’s until I get my own back." 

“Well now you have something to look forward to.” 

“That isn’t funny, Zo.”

Zoë shrugged. “It’s just a photoshop, but if you don’t want to see it you can get Imogen to delete it for you before you can open it.”

“I’m so sorry that happened to you. People can be awful.”

“It’s not anything that hasn’t happened before.”

Becky’s fists clenched on her book and she stared down at the page she was on. “I-it’s still horrifying.”

Zoë wondered what Becky would say if she knew that Zoë was the person who’d set up Degrassi Nudes. The thought sent waves of ice water through her veins. Would Becky think Zoë was a slut? That she’d sent her own brother to prison for a ho that sold nudes? Or worse… that Zoë had wanted what had happened that awful night, or deserved it?

Zoë would never, ever, let Becky find out if she could help it. She didn’t want to see the look on Becky’s face if she ever found out Zoë might be everything the media had painted her as.

“It’s fine.”

“Stop saying that, Zo, because it isn’t.”

Zoë drummed her fingers on the table. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“Okay, we can do that. How’s prep for the competition going?”

“I bought us matching bows,” Zoë said with a smile.

“That’s sure to win you the whole thing,” Becky joked.

Zoë spent a second too long staring at Becky’s smile.

“We’ve got the moves down. It’s all about confidence now. If the squad gets too nervous or if drama gets under their skin we could lose it even though we have everything memorized.”

Becky’s joking smile turned more serious and she gave a nod. “That’s true. It’s important to keep the focus on how well you’ve already done and keep the team together.”

“Keeping the team together is my biggest goal.”

Becky’s sunshine smile was back instantly as she said, “You do a good job of it.”

Zoë felt like the biggest fucking fake in the world.

“So… are you coming?”

Becky hadn’t been expecting the question. “To the competition?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. I wasn’t sure if you’d want me.” Becky gave a shy smile.

“Don’t be stupid.”

Becky’s rolled her eyes, but her smile never faded. God, was it _painted on_? “You don’t have to be _rude_ , Zoë. Of course I’ll come if you want me to.”

“I’m not going to force you if you don’t want to.”

“Now you’re being the silly one!” Zoë couldn’t help smiling at Becky’s switching the word from “stupid” to “silly”. _So Becky_. “I’d _love_ to be there,” Becky said emphatically. “I’ll get a front row seat to see you and the squad in your shining glory!”

“Thanks,” Zoë said, and it was entirely genuine. She wanted Becky to see how well she’d done in as captain, that she’d accomplished so much. For the first time Zoë realized that she was completely over any worry that Becky might try to swoop in and steal Power Cheer back. She actually trusted Becky not to do something like that to her.

The thought made Zoë the tiniest bit apprehensive. Letting down her guard was never a good idea. But one look at Becky’s joyful, earnest face, and Zoë knew that it was alright. She’d made the single digit list of trustworthy people.

“I’ve got class, but I’ll see you at the competition!” Becky gathered up her belongings and gave a little wave as she left the table. Zoë nodded, pretending to be uninterested as Becky left.

.

Seeing Zig in a cheerleading uniform and cheering like a fool made Zoë immediately jump to the conclusion that he and Tiny were making fun of her team and she marched over to confront him. She had enough people making fun of her, talking about her in the hallway, she didn’t need it from Zig, too.

But then he assured her that he wasn’t making fun of her.

He called her… a _good_ person. It made no sense. Zoë wasn’t a good person. She knew that, the whole world knew that. Heck, her best friend Tristan wouldn’t call her a good person! But Zig thought she was?

And Becky might, too?

Upside down world.

Zig was different from most boys. Zoë still didn’t really trust him, but Zig had come through for her once when she’d been near a jumping point. Zig had sat with her in that bus and talked her down from taking a handful of pills, and for that, Zoë would always feel some sort of fondness for him. 

Maybe they would never work, but that didn’t stop Zoë from wanting Zig to be in some way a part of her life.

And hey, maybe they _could_ work. Maybe Zoë could make it work.

For the first time in her life, Zoë wanted to be normal. She wanted to be “your average girl” in high school. Not the starlet, not the victim, not someone that the whole school tittered about behind her back.

Normal.

She made sure that Zig had her number. Maybe he could add to her “normal”.

.

Zoë was so sincere when she told the girls how much they meant to her. How she was so grateful for them sticking by her. She had worked so hard to keep them. In Zoë’s mind, she felt like she could finally count her friends on more than one hand. Shay, Jack, and Lola had even encouraged her to go get a kiss from Zig before the competition, like they were her actual girlfriends.

She should have known it wasn’t Zig texting her. She felt so fucking stupid. But she’d been excited at the idea that Zig would still want to try something out with her, that maybe she could make a normal relationship. And she’d wound up cornered in a room. She’d been way more afraid at first than she’d care to admit, but feeling trapped and powerless was one of her worst fears.

When she’d figured out the knife was fake, Zoë was furious. Both at the blackmailer and at herself. And when Zoë had found out it was Winston and Frankie, she’d nearly lost it. She’d felt afraid of those two fucking dorks? God, what was wrong with her? She was Zoë fucking Rivas! She didn’t get scared of nerd babies who had decided somehow all of Frankie’s problems were _her_ fault.

When Zoë went to leave the door handle felt like a hot stove.

Zoë thought it was another part of Frankie and Winston’s stupid plan to get her to confess to being the leader of Degrassi Nudes, but they both looked as freaked as she was. And then they saw the flames. 

All three of them tried banging on the door, but when the smoke started to seep in they hit the floor, a small part of fire safety training remembered by all of them in their panic. Frankie was the one who went to grab towels for them to breathe in and stuff under the door. Zoë only had the presence of mind to scream for help. Cell phones were jammed up from heavy traffic and none of them could call out. 

Zoë always wondered if she’d think of her mom in a life or death situation. She got her answer when an image of her mom from that morning popped into her head. Her mom on the phone, talking to someone about a work related issue. Zoë hadn’t said goodbye because she knew how her mom hated being interrupted on the phone, and she’d actually been _glad_ that she hadn’t had to interact with her mom that morning. What kind of bitch of a daughter thought that?

Winston started to cry and apologize for getting them into the whole mess and Zoë could hardly believe the reason he’d done it all was to impress a girl. They were going to die for a grand gesture gone horribly wrong!

Then Frankie started to blame Zoë for them being trapped and Zoë’s first instinct was to fight back. She hadn’t been the one to set up this dumb trap! But Frankie’s eyes started to tear up as she yelled, and Zoë knew it wasn’t just from the smoke.

“You’re a bully!”

Why did Zoë flinch away from that accusation? She didn’t care what people called her, she wanted people to know she was in charge. But hearing it out loud from Frankie was different. It somehow felt like less of a triumph.

And Frankie was saying all the things that Zoë already knew. The girls didn’t stick around because they wanted to be around Zoë. They wouldn’t be near her if she wasn’t holding Degrassi Nudes over their heads.

Zoë wasn’t their friend.

She was their publicist. She was their talent agent. She used them, sold them like little dolls, again and again, because she couldn’t _fucking_ figure out how to keep people around her otherwise.

All Zoë wanted was the ability to make friends. For people to care about her, like her for who she was. She didn’t know how.

The thought of the girls from Power Cheer hating her forever once all of their secrets came out burned her lungs more than the smoke.

.

Zoë didn’t even feel glad when they were rescued. Walking out of Degrassi, Zoë would rather have been burned to a crisp than face what she’d done, how cruel and monstrous and unworthy of friends she always had been.

She stood there and watched Frankie Hollingsworth be enveloped in hugs the second she hit the bottom stair, her brothers love and worry coming off them in waves. Even that fucked up family had more love in them than she did. Zoë watched them practically scoop Frankie up and take her to an ambulance.

No one was going to do that for Zoë.

But then, impossibly, Zig was there. Zoë couldn’t do anything but look at him in bewilderment, ignoring his question of whether she should get checked out to say, “You actually came.” Zig had come to see her compete. Zig had come to check on her.

_Why?_

Zig asked, “Are you okay?”

And Zoë answered honestly, “Not even close.”

She was going to do something that she never thought she’d do. She was going to sacrifice herself for other people. People she’d wanted in her life. People she didn’t deserve.

Zig had given her a token Zig look of confusion and just asked, “Okay, um, can we hang out sometime?”

Zoë looked up at Zig, who might actually _like_ her for her, who shouldn’t, and said, “You’re better off without me. Everyone is.” Zoë didn’t know how to be a good person, no matter what Zig thought of her. Zoë was toxic, she was rotten down to her core, and she made sure to pass her rot on to everyone she touched.

.

Zoë’s mom had yelled at her for a solid two hours. “Your image is ruined!” “How will you ever get work now?” “How could you do this to me?”

Zoë just took it. She didn’t really know how to answer those questions. She waited for questions about her thought process, her self-esteem, but they never came. The questions weren’t really about Zoë, and Zoë doesn’t know why she expected they ever would be.

Zig sent her a text that read, _“lol wtf?”._

Tristan sent her a three paragraph long message that amounted to the same thing.

Becky didn’t send her anything at all.

She knew where they were coming from. Why would she do that to herself? “After everything”? _After everything_! That was always what everyone said! You’re so strong “after everything”, I admire you “after everything”, I can’t believe you’re here “after everything”, How could you do this “after everything”?! It drove her crazy! She hated that phrase, she _hated_ it.

People didn’t say the words anymore. If they wanted to talk at her about her rape, psychologically probe her motivations or extol her virtues like she was some fucking saint for being assaulted, they should DAMN WELL have the guts to use the words! Or they should not even _fucking_ _start_.

Her mom immediately called a lawyer and used her assault as the reasoning behind her Degrassi Nudes business. She didn’t even talk to Zoë about it first.

Whatever.

.

Becky texted her three days later with a, _“Did you really start Degrassi Nudes?”_

Zoë had left the message to sit for 5 hours. She didn’t want to respond. The thought of deleting Becky’s number and blocking her even crossed her mind, she was so frightened of the outcome.

But she finally did reply. Two texts in quick succession.

_“Yes.”_

_“It’s complicated.”_

Almost immediately a bubble appeared in the text window, indicating that Becky was typing a reply. Zoë stared at it, unable to close the screen, waiting for the accusations and hatred.

_“I don’t understand.”_

_“Why?”_

This was almost worse than the fury she’d expected. “I needed money” made her sound like a whore, “I wanted to have control over my nudes” made her sound psychotic. “I don’t know”, something she was starting to think when she was asked the question, made her sound fucking dumb.

 _“It was easy.”_ She finally texted back.

There was a pause, then the bubble popped up again and Zoë waited.

_“I don’t get it, esp after everything.”_

Zoë saw red. That fucking phrase. Furiously she typed back:

_“It was easy because I’m a piece of shit who can’t figure out how to be a friend, who manipulates people so they feel the same way I do because I want everyone to be as miserable and fucked up as me, because I can’t connect to people and I’m a fucking monster, that’s why!!”_

Zoë pressed the send button. As the red faded from her vision she felt growing horror at what she’d done. No, no, no! She had to take it back. She couldn’t believe she’d actually sent that to Becky.

She started to type a retraction, all rambles and spelling errors in her panic, when the bubble came back, and she got a message.

_“You owe me five dollars.”_

Zoë blinked, disbelieving. What the fuck did that mean?

_“What?”_

_“You just insulted yourself like ten times in that paragraph. You owe me five dollars.”_

Zoë didn’t know what to think. Her fingers hovered over her screen, frozen.

Becky sent her another message.

_“Remember, I told you I’d start charging you for talk like that.”_

Zoë shook her head. She must be hallucinating or something.

_“Becky, I just told you that I ran DN. What are you doing?”_

_“Yeah, you made a huge mistake. And you’re gonna get punished for it, rightfully so. But that doesn’t make you a monster. It makes you human. We’re all flawed, and we all make mistakes, but that doesn’t make us irredeemable.”_

_“I still believe in you, Zoë.”_

Zoë’s hands were shaking so hard she couldn’t type, not that she knew what to say in reply. She only realized she was crying when a big tear landed on her phone. 

_Why?_

_Why, why, **why**?_  

Becky seemed to somehow sense that Zoë wasn’t going to be able to formulate a reply, so her next text was a goodbye.

_“Call me when you get off your uber grounding, which I assume you’re getting, and tell me what’s going on legally for you, okay? And let me know how you’re doing. Talk to you soon, Zo.”_

Zoë put down her phone and flopped back on her bed, staring at the ceiling with the question of “why” circling around and around her head in a neverending whirlpool.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any dialogue from the Degrassi show is being used for fun and I don't claim that I wrote it.

Classes resumed after a week. The fire damage was minimal; Degrassi was extremely sturdy. Someone had really put some effort into making sure Degrassi stayed standing no matter what, since it appeared to be a lightning rod for disaster and destruction. Zoë didn’t know if this was a relief or not. If there had been more damage they’d still have had to resume classes somewhere, but they would have probably split the populace of Degrassi between neighboring schools and the chances of having to face down the entire Power Cheer squad would have diminished slightly. As it was, she was walking the same halls she had a week before, seeing the same faces, all of them knowing what she’d done by now.

The Degrassi gossip vine was nothing if not efficient.

There was no way everyone wasn’t going to find out, however, after 1985 Big Brother came down on Degrassi like a hammer. No cell phones, no PDA, cameras everywhere. Everyone blamed Power Cheer. Everyone blamed Zoë.

Zoë had kept in contact with Tristan well enough. After realizing he wasn’t going to tear her apart for what she’d done, Zoë had started talking to him more and more, using him as her main source of human interaction over the week that she was grounded. She didn’t text Becky again until the day before school was to start again, just a quick “see you at school”. She still didn’t know what to say to Becky. Zoë Rivas, speechless. It wasn’t something she was used to.

Zoë hooked up with Tristan in the halls as soon as possible. He didn’t mind at all that she was using him as a shield against the stares and whispers, and he even helped her shoot looks at the more aggressively nosy kids. He walked her to detention at the end of school.

Zoë was the only one facing legal consequences for Degrassi Nudes. On the school end she was getting the same exact punishment as the other girls: detention from now until the end of the year. They’d had to split up detention into multiple rooms because of it, since other kids were still getting detention and that wasn’t about to stop now that there was a whole team of butts permanently assigned to detention seats. The squad had been split up equally between rooms, which meant that when Zoë walked into detention she had to face some of the girls she had sorted more into the “fodder” category and one Lola. Zoë had felt closest to Lola, Shay, and Jack during her reign, and she’d hoped that she would be in detention with none of them. That shock of pink hair had not been a comfort. Still, she approached Lola with a sliver of hope. She had shot the Power Cheer members a quick “I’m taking care of everything” message on the group chat, but she’d never heard back from any of them. After that, the group chat had disbanded, so this would be the first time she’d interacted with any of them since she’d turned herself in.

“Hey Lo! Look on the bright side, we could be in actual prison.”

Zoë went to sit but Lola picked up her bag and put it in the seat next to her, glaring at Zoë like she’d killed her puppy. “They took away our cell phones. It’s like my best friend died." 

Zoë tried not to let her voice get too vulnerable as she asked, “You’re still really mad at me?”

Lola turned her back on Zoë without another word.

A boy behind Zoë piped up, “For the record, I loved your business. Very entrepreneurial.” Zoë was pretty sure his name was Damon, but she’d never interacted with the skeezoid so she wasn’t sure.

“Can we not? I’ve kind of had enough for one day,” Zoë snapped, sitting down a seat away from Lola.

“Aw, the child pornographer doesn’t wanna talk about it?”

Zoë felt her stomach sink. She’d been afraid of someone calling her that, but she hadn’t thought it would be the very first day. She whipped back around and started, “It’s _not_ -“ but she stopped herself. “Nevermind. You’re not even worth it.” She turned her back again, determined to keep her head held high.

Something hit the back of her head.

She turned back around in shock. Damon laughed and waved at her, a straw in his hand, his spitball projectile held out like he was proud.

The other girls laughed at her.

They _laughed_ at her.

Not for the first time in her life, Zoë felt really, truly, alone.

.

_“They hate me.”_

Zoe texted Becky almost as soon as she got in the car after school. She never had seen Becky, which was almost a blessing but still somehow had made Zoë feel disappointed.

The ride home was awful, her mom muttering about lawyers and agents but not talking to Zoë herself. When Zoë got to her room she shut the door and tossed her backpack on the floor, flopped back onto her bed and closed her eyes. Almost immediately after she’d done this, her phone buzzed.

_“They don’t hate you. They’re mad at you. They’ll forgive you, they’re your friends!”_

Zoë laughed bitterly as she typed back a reply. She was glad that she hadn’t had to explain to Becky who “they” were, but everything else about her reply was wrong, so wrong.

_“No, they’re not. They never were. I wanted them to be, but they never even liked me. They just did what I said.”_

_“Now I don’t believe that’s true, that they never liked you.”_

Zoë shook her head. Becky thought so much of her, of everyone. It made no sense.

_“You hang out with Jack, did she ever make it seem like we were friends?”_

There was a pause. It was all the confirmation that Zoë needed, but it still stung. She had really liked Jack. 

_“There are more girls that were on Power Cheer than Jack.”_

_“But she was one of the people I was closest to, even if we fought a lot.”_

_“I didn’t know you were close to Jack.”_

_“See? I thought I was. But she didn’t really like me.”_

There was another pause, but it wasn’t quite as long.

_“You just have to show them how much they meant to you. Make it up to them, be there for them. It’ll be okay, Zo.”_

Zoë smiled a little. So optimistic. But it was nice, even if it was unrealistic. Zoë tended to be pessimistic when it came to her ability to fix things.

_“I’ll try.”_

_“Atta girl!”_  

Zoë rolled her eyes.

.

Detention felt like it lasted forever. No one talked to Zoë but Damon, so all she could do was sit and watch the clock tick down.

Damon was mostly focusing his attempts to annoy on Zoë, but after she stopped responding he turned on Lola. At first, Lola didn’t seem to understand that she was being mocked, which made Zoë want to snap at her “he’s being a dick!”, but as soon as he started spitballing Lola instead every instinct in Zoë screamed “do something, don’t let him pick on Lola!”. Zoë had never thought of herself as a protective person. But Lola was a total ditz, she needed help on the best of days, and she didn’t deserve to be treated this way.

Zoë threw back her chair and launched herself over Damon’s table, trying to grab the straw from him. He held it just out of arms length and she wasn’t about to go chasing him around the classroom looking like a fool, so she turned back around, smoothing her hair, and leaned next to Lola.

“Okay, we need to do something about this joker.”

To Zoë’s surprise, Lola replied, “Leave us out of this, last time we followed you look what happened.”

“I feel horrible I’m the reason you guys are in here getting bothered by that creepo.” _Please, please believe me. I never wanted this._

“Then find a way to make it up to us.”

.

Zoë really didn’t want to get into any more trouble this year. As it was, her sophomore year was playing out like one of Gatsby’s high school years. Zoë had never realized just how unglamorous constant drama actually was. She’d always assumed she’d want a life just like Gatsby’s life. Now, she wanted nothing less.

But Gatsby got stuff _done_. Gatsby ruled her school.

Gatsby had friends. 

Despite wanting to distance herself from Gatsby Garcia, to deal with Damon she took a page out of Gatsby’s book and utterly humiliated Damon in detention to get him to back off. Seeing Damon sit down in chocolate pudding gave her no small amount of pleasure.

Damon tried to intimidate Zoë but she just stood so he wasn’t looming over her, going toe to toe with him without an ounce of fear. Gatsby laughed in Zoë’s head.

Damon rose his hand as if to strike her and Zoë’s smile faded, anger replacing her amusement. _So_ like a guy, to threaten physical violence the second he felt out of control. She knew he wouldn’t hit her, but she watched his hand until it went back down.

“You’re a nightmare. No wonder these girls hate you.”

Damon marched off and Zoë celebrated her victory, even as Gatsby’s voice faded in her head and her own internal voice picked up the chant, _“You’re a nightmare, nightmare, nightmare.”_

.

Zoë spotted Damon after school and Gatsby’s voice rose again from the depths, telling her that she needed to keep plunging that knife. A viper strikes more than once to insure the kill. She was heading the way Damon was going, anyway, so she taunted him as she passed him.

It quickly started to go wrong. Suddenly Damon was more threatening, leering at her like she was a piece of meat. She’d wanted anger, wanted insults, not for him to invade her space. Gatsby vanished, leaving weak Zoë, scared Zoë, as Damon got too close and she tried desperately to get away from him. She squared her shoulders, trying to give the illusion she _wasn’t_ scared of him.

He wasn’t getting out of her way and she tried not to panic, but before she could start to actually freak out Zig showed up out of nowhere, getting between her and Damon.

When Damon shoved Zig back Zoë tried to stop the fight she sensed brewing. “Okay, Zig, it’s okay, I can handle him.” Even afraid of Damon, fighting off fear, Zoë knew she could handle him. She was awake, she wasn’t helpless. Zoë could handle one pathetic guy.

“You shouldn’t have to,” Zig replied.

Despite knowing she and Zig would never work, her heart swelled. Zig always came through.

Zoë desperately didn’t want him to get hurt for someone like _her_.

A fight broke out, exactly what she hadn’t wanted to happen. Tiny jumped in to defend Zig, and the three boys grappled with one another. She circled around, begging the boys to stop.

Tiny cried out in pain, more pain than a simple punch would cause, and Zoë instantly knew that something was terribly wrong. “Oh my God,” she said, voice trembling, and she rushed to Tiny’s side as Damon took off and Zig rushed to follow. “NO!” She screamed after Zig, desperate for him to stay. Terrified at the idea of Zig following a boy with a knife and of being left alone with a horribly injured Tiny. “We need to call for help!”

Zoë held onto Tiny, a boy she barely even knew, who had got hurt because of her. _Stabbed_ because of her.

All of Zoë’s triumph from facing down a bully vanished. She had caused this. She was so lethal to other people that they could actually _die_ because of her. What the fuck, what the actual fuck??

Zoë had tried to fix things for the members of Power Cheer, and all she’d managed to do was hurt an innocent person. That’s what her attempts to fix things got her.


	6. Chapter 6

Zoë stayed home the next day. Even though Tiny was going to make a full recovery, even though no one blamed her for what Damon had done, she couldn’t face being at Degrassi. She was never going to make things right with her Power Cheer teammates. She was never going to live down Degrassi Nudes. She was going to hurt people the instant they entered her Disaster Zone.

Zoë might as well face it and move on.

She briefly contemplated exorcising Tristan from her life, too, just to make sure he stayed out of the radius of flying debris, but decided against it in the end. For one thing, he would never have let her try. He would have seen what she was doing instantly and gotten pissed at her and harped on and on about it without ever actually leaving her side. It was comforting, if a little frustrating. Even when she felt alone, these days she had one more person than she ever had before and that didn’t seem to be something that would change anytime soon. Unless she _really_ royally fucked up in some way, which wasn’t off the table.

But a person like Zig? He was great, but he wouldn’t be able to handle being around her. She’d do something dumb, someone would come after her, and Zig would white knight his way into a hospital bed. No, Zig was out. She’d just have to be casual friends with him at this point, if even that. It made her sad, but it was for the best. She’d be devastated beyond belief if he ever got hurt on her account.

That basically just left Becky.

Zoë didn’t know what to do about her. Should she do something to make sure Becky stayed far out of the blast zone? Would Becky let her?

Did she want to lose Becky?

Why did the idea of losing Becky as a confidante make Zoë so anxious? She didn’t need more than one. But the idea of not getting a text from Becky again, made her feel physically ill.

Zoë was still considering what to do when her phone buzzed.

_“OMG I heard what happened are you okay?!”_

The idea that anyone should be worrying about her when Tiny was in the hospital was laughable.

_“I’m fine, I’m not the one who got hurt.”_

_“I know but that must have been so scary! Is that why you aren’t at school today?”_

Zoë hadn’t thought anyone but Tristan would have noticed she hadn’t showed. Becky wasn’t even in her grade, they didn’t share classes.

_“Yeah.”_

_“Can I come over after school? I can bring anything you want! Do you like ice cream as comfort food?”_

Zoë actually said out loud, “Come over??”

Becky wanted to come over? To her house?

_“Why do you want to come over?”_

_“Because you went through something really scary and I want to be there for you.”_

Zoë hadn’t had a friend over before, not even Tristan. They went out if they were going to hang, because Zoë didn’t want to have to deal with her mom showing up and being awful to anyone. Her house was beautiful, but it wasn’t very homey.

_“You don’t have to say I can come over, Zoë, I totally understand. I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.”_

Zoë drummed her fingers on her phone, biting her lip.

_“No, it’s fine. You can come over.”_

_“Only if you’re comfortable! What kind of ice cream do you like?”_

_“Rocky Road.”_

Zoë texted Becky her address. She got out of bed and changed out of her pjs. Suddenly, she felt like she should clean.

.

Becky arrived about twenty minutes after school let out, a gallon of ice cream under one arm and a big grin on her face. Zoë hadn’t seen her since inviting her to the cheer competition. She had been dreading seeing Becky again, but when she saw her face she wasn’t sure why. Something about Becky’s smile made Zoë feel warm, accepted, and when Zoë opened the door she found herself smiling shyly back.

“Zoë! It’s so good to see you! Thank you for having me over.” Becky stood in the doorway and looked very much like she wanted to hold out her arms for a hug, but didn’t. Zoë suddenly very much wanted a hug from Becky. She remembered Becky as being an excellent hugger. Zoë didn’t know how to offer a hug, though, so she just stepped out of the way and offered a quiet, “hey” in reply to Becky’s enthusiastic greeting. 

“Your house is beautiful,” Becky admired.

“Thanks,” Zoë said. Her mom had worked hard on making their house looked the picture of affluence. It had been one of her biggest hobbies while Zoë was working. Now that they didn’t have the income that they once did, everything wasn’t as up to date as it once had been, but Becky wouldn’t know that.

Zoë showed Becky to the kitchen, where she pulled out bowls and spoons for the ice cream. Becky grabbed a spoon and said, “I thought we could maybe eat out of the carton. Classic vegging out style.”

Zoë followed Becky’s lead and left the bowls behind. They went into the living room and sat down on the couch. Becky pulled off the carton lid and offered Zoë the first opportunity to take a spoonful.

Zoë didn’t hesitate, taking a huge scoop and eating it, ignoring the painful cold as it hit the roof of her mouth.

Becky followed suit. As soon as she’d swallowed her ice cream she said, “How are you?”

“Fine,” Zoë said without looking up from the ice cream.

“Zoë,” Becky sighed, her blue eyes swimming with sympathy. “You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to, but please don’t lie? Just say, “I don’t want to talk about it Becky”, that’s totally okay to do.”

Zoë slowly looked back up at Becky.

Sometimes looking at Becky Baker was blinding. Her perfect smile, her eyes, everything about her was bright and her personality radiated off her like a blazing light. But every so often, Becky was soft. Her light calmed and dimmed, her energy stilled. She invited you in to her warmth, her kindness.

This was one of those times.

And goddamn, was Becky fucking beautiful.

If she’d ever auditioned for West Drive, the producers would have fallen over themselves trying to get her a place on the show.

Zoë wondered what her life would have been like if Becky had been on the set of West Drive. Would her light have helped to temper Zoë, made her less of a tornado to the people around her?

_I’m a tornado, Becky. I touch down next to someone and tear their entire life apart. It’s in my nature._

_And it’s not always a passive tearing up. Sometimes, I do it on purpose. Sometimes I want it. I want to see their life destroyed. I want it so badly that I do it without mercy._

_I don’t know why I’m like this._

Zoë didn’t say any of this, of course. But she felt like if she did, Becky wouldn’t smack her across the face and call her a child of Satan.

“Sometimes… I do things,” Zoë said, twirling her spoon. “When everything is said and done, I regret it. I always regret it, but I still do these things. Over and over.” Zoë felt her cheeks heat up in shame. 

Becky took a spoonful, a small furrow in her brow as she thought about what Zoë had said. She ate a bite, and then another. Zoë felt her shame grow bigger as she waited, regretting ever saying anything. Becky put down her spoon and placed her hand on Zoë’s knee. “You know that when you do something big you’ll get a reaction, and you want that reaction. You just have to work on getting reactions from positive actions, not negative ones.”

“Wow. Insightful,” Zoë said with a little laugh. Becky laughed too.

“I’m sorry! I wish I had better advice, but it’s hard for me to put myself in your shoes.”

“Because you don’t have a mean bone in your body and I’m essentially the Antichrist?”

“No,” Becky said with a shake of her head and a smile. “We are very different people, Zo, but boiling it down to I’m good and you’re bad is doing both of us a disservice. I’m not perfect. And you’re not as terrible a person as you think you are.”

Zoë couldn’t help smiling at that. She leaned against the back of her couch, her cheek pressed against the cushion. “Why are you so nice to me?”

“I like you, Zoë. I know we still don’t know each other very well yet, but I admire you. You’re smart and funny and determined, you’re a hard worker, and you’re strong. I wish I could be more like you, sometimes.”

“More like _me_?” Zoë asked in disbelief.

“Yes. As hard as that may be to believe.”

**“** You’re insane,” Zoë laughed.

“Says Zoë Rivas, the girl who operated and maintained an entire nudie picture business!”

From anyone else it could have felt like a kick when Zoë was down. From Becky, it felt like just the right amount of teasing, and it made Zoë laugh again for the third time in five minutes. No one had been able to turn Zoë’s moods around so dramatically before.

They ate more ice cream in companionable silence until Zoë tried nonchalantly to ask, “So… do you wanna watch a movie?”

Becky had agreed with what seemed to Zoë like exaggerated enthusiasm, and they looked at the options Zoë owned before selecting something. Zoë was grateful that Becky hadn’t seemed at all interested in watching any of the West Drive box sets that were displayed lovingly at the top of the video shelf. She didn’t want to have to deal with Gatsby Garcia tonight.

They watched and joked and finished off three fourths of the pint, getting to know each other a lot more in the hour and half movie time than they had in the time they were texting. Zoë found out that Becky was now dating the gross goth, which seemed like a major step down in the dating department, but Zoë also knew that Drew was a bit overrated anyway. It didn’t seem to Zoë that there was anyone at the school that deserved Becky’s awesomeness.

When Zoë said as much Becky had gotten a little quiet, somber, and Zoë found out that she had dated Drew’s little brother, Adam, before he’d died the summer before. Zoë felt instantly guilty for bringing it up, but Becky quickly squashed that feeling by assuring Zoë she liked to talk about Adam sometimes.

“Sometimes I think he was my soul mate, and I worry that I’ll never love anyone as much as I did him…” Becky said, a sad smile on her face.

Zoë tasted something like jealousy at the wistful way Becky spoke of Adam.

Bigger than that, Zoë felt terrible sadness for Becky’s loss. She found herself moving the pint from between them and scooting a little closer to Becky.

They were almost done with the movie when the door opened. Zoë jumped and went tense just as her mother entered the room.

Zoe’s mom froze as she took in the scene. Zoë, with another person, sitting on the couch and eating ice cream. Zoë with a friend over. 

Zoë watched as her mother measured up Becky, noting the pastels, noting the cross around her neck, taking an inventory of Becky.

Zoë saw the moment that recognition dawned in her mom’s eyes.

“Baker.”

It was Becky’s turn to go rigid, all the color draining from her face. “Hello, Ms. Rivas. Becky is my first name.”

“Mom-“

“A little early for this, isn’t it?” Ms. Rivas asked coldly. “Your brother’s parole hearing shouldn’t be up for another six months. If you’re already trying to start convincing Zoë to testify on his behalf, I can assure you it won’t work.”

“That’s not what I’m here to do,” Becky said.

“Oh? Then why _are_ you here Miss Baker?”

“I invited her,” Zoë blurted out.

Becky and Zoë’s mom both turned to look at her.

“You what?” Zoë’s mother’s voice was like ice shards and Zoë quailed. She knew that tone. It was the “how could you be so stupid” tone. Zoë hated how much her mother got to her, with just a word or a glance.

Zoë could see the confusion flicker over Becky’s face at the usually confident and snappish Zoë acting cowed. Zoë was mortified. Usually she was a lot better at handling her mom, but the last week she had been chipping and chipping at Zoë, and she had been doing everything in her power to spend as little time as possible with her.

“It was my idea, Ms. Rivas,” Becky said quickly. “I wanted to come over and make sure that Zoë was okay after what happened yesterday.”

“Excuse me? _What_ happened yesterday?”

Shit. Becky turned wide, apologetic eyes toward Zoë. Zoë hadn’t told her mom because she knew that her mom would have laid into her, again, and Zoë couldn’t handle that right now after everything else.

“Um,” Becky quickly, “You know, rough time coming back after the fire and the- the whole-“

“The whole Degrassi Nudes business,” Ms. Rivas finished.

“Y-yes.”

“That’s being handled. Zoë should know better than to hide.”

“Sorry mom,” Zoë said.

“I think it’s time you left, Miss Baker.”

“Becky, mom,” Zoë found herself saying. Her mom leveled an exasperated look at her.

“Um… okay,” Becky said, looking at Zoë for reassurance. Like she was afraid to _leave_ Zoë with her own mom. God, Zoë must look pathetic.

“I’ll walk you to the door,” Zoë said, giving both her mom and Becky a wide berth as she went to the front door. Becky followed behind.

“Are you… going to be okay?” Becky asked nervously, glancing back towards where they’d come from.

“I’m going to be fine, Becky,” Zoë snapped. “I don’t know why you’d think otherwise.”

“Okay…” Becky said, her lips set in a grim line. “I’ll text you when I get home.”

“… thanks,” Zoë said with a small smile.

Becky returned it and then, after a moments hesitation, gave Zoë a quick hug.

For an instant, Zoë could smell Becky’s shampoo, the detergent of her clothing. All crisp and bright, just like Becky herself. Zoë found herself leaning into the hug, wanting it to last, and then Becky was pulling away and Zoë felt the space between them expand with a rush of cold.

“See you tomorrow, Zoë!” Becky waved and skipped down the porch steps.

“See you.”

.

Becky did end up texting Zoë, fast enough that Zoë was pretty sure that Becky texted the second she wasn’t driving anymore. The worry was sweet, but it did irk Zoë a little. It felt like Becky was judging her and her family.

_“Everything okay?”_

_“Yes, I told you it would be.”_

_“Your mom is intense.”_

Zoë had to giggle at that. Sort of an understatement.

_“Kindness doesn’t get you anywhere in the industry.”_

_“But you aren’t the industry, you’re her daughter.”_

Zoë had to take a second to think of a reply to that. Zoë wasn’t the industry? But she was a child star. Her mom had been her manager before she was out of diapers. Her mom had sacrificed everything to make Zoë’s career a success.

_“I’m also the major bread winner. Or I was, before my stupid mistakes got me fired.”_

_“That’s a lot of pressure to put on you.”_

Becky would never understand Zoë’s relationship with her mom. Maybe that was a good thing. She hoped that Becky’s relationship with her own mom was a better one.

_“Sorry we couldn’t finish the movie.”_

_“Some other time! If I’m allowed over again.”_

_“What my mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”_

_“Your bad girl reputation isn’t all talk.”_

_“Damn straight.”_

They talked for a while longer, up until Zoë fell asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Zoë tried to wriggle and squirm her way out of the big legal troubles she was facing, using every trick her mom had ever taught her, but her lawyer still said she was facing huge consequences. Up to five years in juvie. Five years! Luke and Neil hadn’t even got five years! How fair was that? She’d _chosen_ to do Degrassi Nudes! And it wasn’t even like they had sold to pervy old _men_. Just pervy teenage boys.

Her lawyer set up community service for her in the Degrassi cafeteria, not even part of her actual punishment but as a sort of preemptive strike. It was horribly degrading, but Zoë didn’t want to go to juvie. She knew she didn’t have the claws for it.

She’d missed the memo that Miles Hollingsworth was on cafeteria duty too, but that was because she’d been avoiding the caf for lunch so she could steer clear of huge, watchful crowds. She hadn’t talked to Miles since well before the fire, and was surprised when he was friendly enough. She wondered if Frankie even told him what she’d done. He was protective of his siblings, she couldn’t imagine he’d be cool with her.

Becky gave her a friendly wave when her lunch period rolled around. Imogen and Jack gave her matching glares, so Zoë didn’t exactly enthusiastically wave back. But as she was getting off her shift, grabbing lunch for herself, she saw Becky motion at her again and then wave her hand, beckoning Zoë over. Zoë had been planning to flee the caf first chance she got, but she found herself hesitantly walking over to where Becky sat with her friends.

There seemed to be a whispered conversation before Zoë got there. As soon as she did, Imogen and Jack stood and left. Zoë stopped, watching them go. “You… don’t have to invite me over, Becky, if it means your real friends aren’t gonna want to sit with you." 

“You’re my real friend, too, Zo,” Becky said with dismissive flap of her hand. “If they don’t want to deal with that, they don’t have to. But you told me before school that this was your first day of community service. I know you weren’t looking forward to it, so I thought you could use a friendly face.”

“In a sea of unfriendly faces, yours does tend to be the least hostile,” Zoë muttered, but she sat down regardless of still having misgivings. People were watching, whispering. She wondered if she’d ever escape that.

“They’ll get over it,” Becky said, taking a bite of her food. “Rules are important. They keep us safe. And it’s not like they’re that bad.”

“You underestimate the love that high schoolers have for their cell phones,” Zoë commented dryly. Zoë personally ached for her phone, her fingers twitching toward her pocket every few minutes searching for it. She had two friends in real life, if she was now counting Becky, but at least online she had followers, people who would comment on her posts on Hastygram and talk to her like she wasn’t some leper. It wasn’t much connection, but it was more than she had at school when people turned their backs on her in the hallway and threw garbage at her head.

“We can all survive eight hours without them,” Becky said.

Zoë had to crack a smile. Becky definitely could, at the very least. She seemed like one of the most unbothered kids in the entire school about this whole thing.

“I didn’t realize your Christianity tended toward the Amish.”

“What?” Becky laughed, tilting her head.

“I mean, you can’t be normal. A normal teenager would miss their phone way more.”

“Hey! I am totally normal!” Becky protested. “I like Facerange as much as the next teenager!”

“See, total Amish. Nobody uses Facerange anymore.”

“What? They so do!”

“Nope. That’s where all the parents have migrated.”

“I message people on there all the time!”

“Jeez, Becks, get a Kik.”

“What’s a kick?”

“Oh my god.”

Becky and Zoë both burst into laughter.

Zoë had rarely felt so at ease with someone before, so much so that she forgot all about the hostile people surrounding her and that she was a social pariah at school. Becky made her feel wanted. Zoë had never in her life felt wanted in the way that Becky made her feel. Even Tristan had started off a fan. Becky hadn’t. Through crazy circumstances, Zoë and Becky had landed in each others orbits, and had incredibly become friends.

Her mom had always said that getting the role on West Drive was her miracle (“and don’t mess up your miracle, Zoë”). Zoë had privately never thought of West Drive as a miracle. She’d never really thought of anything in her life as a miracle before.

She was starting to think that Becky Baker might be.

Lunch ended and she had to snap back to reality as Becky and Zoë went their separate ways for class. Misery swept back in like the tide with the absence of someone in her corner. It wasn’t until she’d caught up with Tristan again that she felt better. But she still wished she could text Becky a few jokes during class so she could keep feeling like she was around.

It occurred to her that she missed Becky in the few hours that they couldn’t communicate. She’d never missed Tris like this. The closest she’d ever come to this particular feeling was Drew, but even that had never been this intense.

But they weren’t the same, they couldn’t be. She’d _liked_ Drew. She’d wanted to be Drew’s girlfriend.

This wasn’t the same thing at all.

Zoë texted Becky when school let out, asking if she wanted to come over to finish the movie. Becky apologetically said no, she was hanging out with “Immy” that evening. It made Zoë irrationally jealous. She had to remember that Becky and Imogen were best friends and these were their last few weeks together in high school. Of course they’d be hanging out a lot. Well, it gave her time to organize her plan to sneak cell phones in on the food carts the next day- that wasn’t going to be a simple feat.

Lots of planning went into the cell phone escapade. Secret signals, which sandwiches they’d be disguised as, money.

She got caught in about an hour.

It was pretty disheartening, after all that work. But, weirdly, Ms. Pill complimented her intelligence and gave her one last chance instead of expelling her on the spot. Zoë found herself underneath the tables, scraping off gum and trying not to vomit at the thought of used gum falling on her face.

The clattering of wheels announced the arrival of Miles Hollingsworth, and Zoë prepared herself for insults. He did open with a joke, but it wasn’t terrible, just some light teasing, and Zoë rolled over to look at him.

“How do you do it?”

Miles turned back to her and said, “I insult you, and then you insult me to an equal or greater degree.”

“Not comebacks,” Zoë said impatiently. “…how do you let yourself be such a loner?”

“Okay, first I prefer mysterious playboy.” Zoë gave a short laugh. “I just know I’ll never please the haters. So I can either let that tear me up, or I can get over it. I chose the latter.”

“Can you teach me how to not care that everyone hates me?” Zoë wasn’t entirely sure why she was asking Miles something so… so potentially harmful to her image. She didn’t _want_ people to know she cared. Miles wasn’t her favorite person in the world, but they were more similar that either of them liked or cared to admit. He might get the question.

“Sure, just don’t.” Or maybe not.

“It’s not that easy.”

“I guess you’ll just have to watch and learn. God knows you have a few hours in here with me.”

Zoë got back to work, lamenting the fact that she’d asked such a vulnerable question and gotten jack-all for an answer, but then Miles spoke up again. “Do you have any nail polish remover?”

“In my locker. Why?”

“Put it on a cloth, rub it on the gum, it just comes right off.”

 Zoë sat up again and smiled in disbelief.

“I’ve been around the block a few times.”

“Thanks,” Zoë said sincerely. “That’s really helpful.”

“Well, you’re lucky that I don’t totally hate you.”

Miles started up with his own work, and Zoë rolled out from under the table to grab her nail polish remover, but on the way her usual doubting thoughts came into her head, and by the time she’d returned to the caf she was frowning.

“Why not?”

Miles stopped what he was doing and look at Zoë. “Excuse me?”

“Why don’t you totally hate me?”

Miles’s expression was still confused, but a flicker of understanding flashed in his eyes. “Do you think I should?”

“No, it’s just-“ Zoë chewed her lip, trying to think of why her reply would be “no” and not “yes”. “You know… about the whole thing, right? With Degrassi Nudes.”

“I _had_ heard something about an illegal boob ring that took away our cell phones.”

“No, not just- I mean, with your sister.”

Miles’s face darkened just slightly, but it was enough to let Zoë know he knew. Miles had always been protective, fiercely so, but it came out most towards his younger siblings. “She told me." 

“Why don’t you want to murder me?”

Miles crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you want me to give you the “don’t ever hurt my sister again” speech? Because I could, and it would be fairly brutal. I would mean every word of it, too.”

“Not particularly,” Zoë said slowly, worried she was approaching a danger zone. But she also wanted to know. She needed to know. Why was he helping her? “But you’d do anything for Frankie. Why aren’t you tearing me a new one?”

Miles watched Zoë closely, too closely, and it made Zoë want to move from his line of sight so he would stop examining her so thoroughly. Finally he said, “I know a thing or two about tearing people new ones. Mostly myself. So I can tell when other people do it to themselves, too. I think I’d be wasting my breath. You’ve already got it covered.”

Zoë felt heat rise in her cheeks as she blushed and she looked away.

Miles started working again. “We’re far too alike. It’s a shame. I wouldn’t wish my brain on anybody, not even you.”

Zoë spun around so that she wasn’t looking anywhere near him and crawled back under her table. They didn’t talk for the rest of their shift.

.

Zoë got a text from Becky almost as soon as she got her phone back.

_“Sneaking cell phones in? Really Zo???”_

Zoë groaned. She hadn’t been thinking about how Saint Becky would react.

_“I wanted everyone to stop hating me. That’s all.”_

_“Zoë! That’s not the way to do it! You could have been expelled!”_

_“I know. I’m lucky I wasn’t.”_

_“Darn right!”_

Despite the scolding nature of the conversation, Zoë laughed at Becky’s insistence on not using swear words. It was comforting, like even though Becky was mad not much had changed.

_“Sorry, Becky. I know it was stupid. It’s just hard to feel like this.”_

There was a pause while Becky composed her reply.

_“I’m sorry you feel so rotten. But not everyone hates you. I don’t hate you.”_

Zoë smiled.

_“I know. Thanks.”_

_“That’s not something you need to thank me for, silly. You’re my friend.”_

_“I don’t know why. But I’m glad.”_

There was another short pause before Becky replied.

_“Charging you for that one. Anyway I can’t come over tonight either, would Monday work?”_

Zoë eagerly typed back.

_“Yes. That’d be great.”_

.

But on Sunday, Zoë got a surprise text.

_“Can I come over? Please?”_

Zoë’s mom was at church. The only reason that her mom didn’t make her go was because her first agent had said that it wasn’t a good idea to have Zoë going to church or taking any visible stance on organized religion until she was an adult. She could thank God in acceptance speeches and interviews, but announcing specifics “could potentially alienate large parts of Zoë’s demographic”. Zoë hadn’t been to church since her First Communion.

Zoë was surprised though that Becky was able to come over on a Sunday. Everyone knew that the Bakers were uber religious.

_“Of course you can.”_

Zoë knew her mom would be gone for most of the day so there wasn’t a huge risk of her mom finding Becky. Zoë would just keep an eye on the time and maybe suggest they go out to The Dot at some point.

But when Becky showed up, Zoë knew she wouldn’t be doing that.

Becky’s face was red and puffy from crying. She gave Zoë a watery smile when the door was opened but she couldn’t hold it for more than a few seconds before it wobbled off her face. “I’m sorry, I know I must look awful.”

“No, no,” Zoë found herself replying gently as she ushered Becky into her house. “Don’t- I mean- what’s going on?”

Becky didn’t say anything until she got to the couch. She collapsed into it and buried herself into one of the corners. “I don’t want to bother you with my problems. I hate to even show up like this, but I needed somewhere to go.”

“You can come here whenever- I mean, I don’t mind.” Zoë sat down on the other side of the couch. She felt the strange urge to scoot next to Becky and put her arms around her, but she refrained from doing it.

“Thank you, Zoë. That means so much to me.”

“So… so what’s going on?”

Becky shook her head. “It’s my family. My mom and I are okay now, but my dad- he’s just getting worse. He’s so upset with me, he blames me for-“ Becky stopped, casting a nervous look Zoë’s way. “For our family problems.”

_Oh._

Zoë felt like her heart dropped to her feet. This was about Luke. This was about the trial.

The tears on Becky’s face were Zoë’s fault. Of course they were.

Zoë looked down, her whole face falling. She never thought she’d feel guilt over Luke Baker, and she still didn’t, but she felt bad for Becky. Becky being miserable was Luke’s fault, but it felt like hers too.

Then suddenly Becky had launched herself at Zoë, wrapping her arms around her and hiding her face against Zoë’s neck. “I just am so grateful that you let me come here, after everything. You should hate me, but you’re my friend and you’re giving me somewhere to go when I can’t- when I need it.”

Zoë’s whole body had gone rigid in shock. Becky was thanking her and not blaming her? But why? Surely Becky could see that this was, in part, Zoë’s fault.

“I’m just surprised you asked me,” Zoë said honestly.

Becky sniffled into Zoë’s shoulder as she replied, “Immy knows, but I know she doesn’t know what to say so she gets all awkward about it sometimes. And I know you know how family can be hard… I never knew that, you know? I had this perfect family. And it’s not, I guess it never was. I feel like you understand about complicated families… Sorry if that sounds mean.”

“No, you’re right,” Zoë said quietly, tucking her chin and finally putting her arms around Becky and returning the hug. “I do understand about complicated families.”

Zoë wanted to ask why Becky didn’t blame her, why Becky would choose her over Imogen, but she wasn’t brave enough.

“Thank you so much. Zoë. You have no idea how much this means.”

Zoë nodded, speechless.

Eventually they pulled apart and Zoë loaded up the movie they hadn’t finished. Becky was suddenly very snuggly, and Zoë found herself sitting in the middle of the couch with Becky curled up against her. It was surreal, but Zoë found it wasn’t unpleasant in the slightest.

And when Becky left, she kissed Zoë on the cheek, and Zoë’s face flushed with heat.

Zoë had a sudden flash of herself kissing Becky’s lips.

Oh.

Oh shit.


	8. Chapter 8

Zoë couldn’t have a crush on Becky Baker. She just couldn’t. For one thing, she was straight. She’d dated loads of guys on set, and she’d dated Miles and Drew and flirted with Zig. Of course she was straight.

Second of all.

The whole Baker thing.

Zoë couldn’t have a crush on Becky because Becky was her _rapist’s_ sister.

Yet more and more Becky didn’t have that descriptor in Zoë’s mind. She was “funny” and “smart” and “patient”, and much less “Luke’s sister” whenever Zoë was thinking of her.

But that would be _fucked up_ wouldn’t it?

It shouldn’t come to that either way, though. Zoë was _straight_. She’d never thought of a girl in that way before, not ever. She’d barely ever had girls as friends. They’d always been so hard for Zoë to connect with, they’d always been her rivals. She remembered looking up to a few girls in the industry when she was very little, following them around like a little duck, but that was because she aspired to be like them. Not because she had _crushes_ on them.

And yet that night after Becky came over, Zoë had a rather vivid dream in which she kissed Becky for an extended period of time, and it had been so real that Zoë had woken up confused about whether it had happened or not. She’d had to go into the bathroom and splash her face with cold water.

Then she’d had a cry. Because her mom would eat her alive if she ever knew that she’d even thought for a second about kissing a girl. Her career would be finished, her life would be over. There was no way she could like a girl and survive it.

So that Monday when Tristan mentioned that Miles had moved on and had a crush on someone else, Zoë latched into the idea with both hands, hoping and praying it was on her. Zoë liked Miles, she really did, and if he wanted to date her she’d absolutely say yes.

That way she could stay friends with Becky and have a boyfriend. That would fix everything.

. 

Becky invited Zoë to her graduation. Zoë hadn’t been planning to go, she wasn’t exactly friends with any of the seniors except her. She and Drew were on okay terms, but hadn’t really talked in months. She didn’t get along with most of the other seniors and was glad to see most of them go. But she’d miss Becky. Becky, who was forever a saint for the patience she extended Zoë every time she decided to spin out and do something stupid. Not even Tris was that patient with her.

She went to the graduation, sitting towards the back and keeping her eyes out for the Bakers so she wouldn’t have to cross either of their paths. It gave her a pretty good view of Mrs. Baker giving Becky a warm congratulatory hug and Mr. Baker only extending a pat on the back. What an asshole. Zoë waited until she saw them head off in the opposite direction before making her move. She came up behind Becky and tapped her shoulder. When Becky turned she smiled and said, “Congrats.”

“You came!” Becky squealed, throwing her arms around Zoë and hugging her tight.

“Of course I did, silly,” Zoë laughed, spending a few seconds too long clinging to Becky.

“I’m so glad, I really wanted to invite you in person!”

“Invite me? Where?”

“Drew’s throwing a graduation party at his house. It’s going to be mostly seniors but I know some other people are inviting friends from other grades and I was hoping you would come! I’m just worried I’ll be one of the only people there not drinking, I wanted another friend there that I could hang out with. You don’t drink, um, do you?”

“Not anymore,” Zoë said with a shrug. It was awkward for a split second, but it smoothed over again. And it was true, Zoë hadn’t touched beer since the Hollingsworth party. The most she’d had was peach schnapps with Zig and Maya, and that had been pretty small sips as she’d watched Maya get plastered.

“I’d love to have a sober buddy, and I would double love it if it was you.”

“If you’re sure,” Zoë said, internally swearing as she felt her face turn red. “I don’t want things to be awkward if I’m not wanted.”

“Zoë, you would be my guest. If anyone has a problem, they can come to me.” Becky’s jaw tightened and she crossed her arms in a comical approximation of intimidating. Zoë burst into laughter and soon Becky joined her.

“Alright, you’ve twisted my arm.”

“Good! I’m glad. I’ll pick you up at 7?”

“This is starting to sound like a date,” Zoë joked. She immediately regretted it.

It got even worse when Becky winked and said, “Play your cards right,” before bursting into another volley of giggles. “I’ll see you then, Zo!”

Zoë watched as Becky vanished into a small sea of blue robes. The smart move would be to cancel. She couldn’t bring herself to do it.

.

Zoë dressed up in her nicest party clothes and told her mom she was going out with friends, trying not to be offended when her mom’s question of, “What friends?” sounded more like an incredulous questioning of the existence of friends and not a question of which ones she was going out with. Zoë didn’t elaborate because she didn’t care to, plus the whole fact that her mom was a bitch. She went to sit on her stoop at around 6:50 so that Becky wouldn’t have to come and ring the doorbell.

Becky, always polite, showed up promptly at 7 and Zoë ran to the car, freezing as she saw that Imogen was in the front seat. Her eyes searched the car for Jack and she was surprised not to see her. Imogen glared daggers at Zoë and Zoë’s hand hesitated on the handle of the back seat, but then a chipper voice from inside the car called, “Just hop on in!” as Becky leaned as far forward as she could so she could give Zoë the biggest grin in the world. Zoë’s unease melted away and she got in, scooting so that she was sitting in the middle seat of the back.

“Hey,” she said, ignoring Imogen and looking at Becky.

“Hi! I’m glad you could make it, Zoë. This will be a blast.”

“You know it,” Imogen said with a grin aimed at Becky. It seemed that Imogen had agreed to a mutual ignoring, which suited Zoë just fine. Zoë wasn’t there for Imogen. She was there for Becky.

She didn’t talk much on the ride over to Drew’s, letting Becky and Imogen chatter and giggle to themselves. She didn’t feel jealous. Becky had invited her, specifically, to be her sober buddy for the night. That thought still gave Zoë warm fuzzies, even as she assured herself she was working on getting Miles to be her boyfriend and had nothing to worry about.

As the three girls pulled onto Drew’s street and got out of the car, they could feel the bass of the music through the soles of their feet. Zoë wondered idly if the neighbors would be calling the cops on the party and where on earth Drew’s scary mom was tonight. She’d only ever met Mrs. Torres the once. Zoë had been pretty sure that Mrs. Torres was going to melt her with her deathly glare, even if the woman had gotten pissed at Drew for having sex with her in the first place. There was no way Mama Torres was currently in that household and letting her son set up a kegger.

Becky and Imogen ran ahead of Zoë, but at the door Becky turned back and beckoned to Zoë, her eyes and smile blazing bright. Zoë quickened her step.

The door was unlocked so they let themselves in and headed down to the basement, where the party was just starting up. Of course, Becky would get to any party exactly on time, before most of the guests were there. Drew was setting up the keg with Dallas, Clare and Alli were setting out snacks, and Connor was doing something on a laptop while his girlfriend Jenna was hanging some decorations. There were two other people she didn’t know by name. It was clear that the party wouldn’t really be starting for another half hour, at least.

Greetings were exchanged between the seniors and Zoë hung back, smiling tightly any time anyone waved at her or looked her way. Drew actually came up to Zoë and gave her a quick side-hug before going back to his friends. It was honestly more than she had expected from Drew and it made her secretly happy. She was always a little surprised when people were kind to her.

Zoë hung back, but not for long. Becky dragged her down onto a couch and kept her there with her as others started to arrive. Becky talked a lot to her fellow graduates but every time there was a lull she turned to Zoë and started up conversation again, without fail. She never made Zoë feel unwanted at the party, and soon Zoë was laughing and joking with not just Becky, but some of the other seniors, too. 

The booze started flowing and Zoë tried to ignore it. It made her anxious, the smell of beer now something that made her nauseous and jittery. But Becky never moved from her seat and when Imogen got up and offered to grab drinks, Becky turned to Zoë and asked, “What do you think? Punch or Coke?” Zoë replied, “Punch”, more grateful than she could express.

Zoë and Becky stayed planted on that couch for almost two hours, talking and watching as the party got more and more rowdy. When someone stumbled by the couch, nearly falling into Zoë and Becky’s laps, Zoë jumped in her seat and grabbed Becky’s hand, her breathing suddenly coming short. Becky took one look at Zoë and stood, not letting go of Zoë’s hand. “Come on, let’s get some air!”

Zoë followed behind Becky as the exited the glass sliding doors out into the Torres back yard.

“Is this your first party since-“

“Yeah,” Zoë said, trying to make her voice sound dismissive.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even think.”

“Don’t apologize, Becks,” Zoë said, giving Becky a genuine smile. “Hell, I appreciate that you invited me thinking “oh, Zoë’s totally normal and won’t start feeling sick when she smells beer”. Makes me feel like less of a freak.”

“You aren’t a freak,” Becky said firmly. “Your reactions seem perfectly natural to me. And we can stay out here as long as you want. Or do you want me to drive you home?”

“No! No- sorry. I’ve been having a lot of fun. More fun than I’ve had in… weeks. Thank you, for inviting me.”

Becky’s face lit up and she pulled Zoë in for a hug. Zoë, still unprepared for Becky to hug her so often, took a few seconds to react before she wrapped her arms around Becky.

They went back inside the basement for a while but as some point Becky herself needed a break from the intoxicated folks and she asked a few of the less drunk seniors to go upstairs and play a party game. Imogen, Clare, Alli, Connor, and Jenna all trooped up the stairs and took seats on the rug by the couch. Drew and Dallas stayed downstairs to watch the keg.

“Never Have I Ever,” Alli announced as they sat, expecting all of them to know what she meant. Zoë sighed and put her cheek in her hand. The last time she’d played this particular game she’d wound up in a storm chasing down a drunk girl. Not the fondest memories, even if the night had ended on a good note. She’d had peach schnapps back then, taking very small sips, but the options at Drew’s were beer or non-alcoholic so she and Becky would be playing sober. 

Despite not wanting to make waves at Becky’s graduation party, Zoë felt compelled to ask, “Why this game? Don’t you guys already know each other creepily well?” Alli and Imogen both glared at her while Clare and Jenna exchanged a look.

“Zoë has a point,” Connor said. Jenna elbowed him gently and he gave her a mystified look. “What, it’s true. I’ve known Clare and Alli since we were niners and you tell me everything about what goes on between you and those two anyway. I suppose I might not know things about Imogen or Becky. But arguably the only person we don’t know anything about is Zoë.”

Zoë suddenly felt very much out of place and she had to actively stop herself from squirming.

“I’d say we know plenty,” Imogen muttered. This time, when an elbow shot out to catch her in the side, it was hard. “Ow,” she whined as she gave Becky a hurt look. Becky scowled back at her.

“I think it could be fun,” Becky declared. “I’ll go first! Hmm.” Becky tapped her chin. “Never have I ever… kissed a boy I didn’t know.”

Zoë took a sip, thinking of all the boys she’d had to kiss for her job on West Drive that she’d met only briefly before it was time to shoot. Surprisingly, so did Clare. The girl had been pregnant, sure, but Zoë had always pegged her as a prude. She didn’t know much about Clare, their only interaction that time that Clare had written an awful article full of lies about her.

“Your turn, Zo!” Becky said, smiling as she turned to look at her. All eyes were on Zoë.

“Never have I ever… eaten a chili cheese steak,” Zoë said. It was lame, but she wasn’t about to come up with something personal or crazy for her first turn.

Most everyone took a sip and it moved on quickly from there. There were a lot of inside jokes, especially between the girls. Zoë never thought she’d have much in common with Connor, but as they sat together playing Never Have I Ever, she and Connor were doing a lot of watching as the game unfolded. His Never Have I Ever had been something like, “Never have I ever had more than one sexual partner.” Everyone but Becky took a sip immediately, and Zoë had stared at her cup for a few seconds before leaving her cup in her lap. Luckily no one seemed interested in her answer to that one.

When it got to Imogen she grinned ear to ear and said, “Never have I ever NOT had a sexual dream about a close female friend.”

Everyone burst into laughter. Imogen took a sip and so did Connor and then Jenna of all people, which elicited some more peels of laughter. Zoë swallowed thickly and was the last to take a drink.

Imogen’s gaze fixed on Zoë and Zoë turned her head so she wouldn’t make eye contact with her.

It was Becky’s turn again. Her, “Never have I ever done hard drugs”, forced Zoë to take another sip. She was the only one who did. God, this game was making her look like a royal fuck up.

Zoë was having trouble coming up with something to say. She’d done a stupid amount of stuff in her short life, and everything she hadn’t done was normal. She couldn’t very well say “Never have I ever had a sleepover”, “Never have I ever been to a public swimming pool”, “Never have I ever been to the zoo”. All of those things were things everyone else would have done already. And getting more specific, like “Never have I ever done pot at a bus stop” would let them know she’d smoked in a bunch of other places when she was on West Drive. 

“Never have I ever painted someone else’s nails.” 

Every single girl in the circle stared at her. Connor took a sip.

“You’ve never painted a friend’s nails before?” Alli asked in surprise.

Feeling defensive, Zoë said, “Uh, no way, we had makeup artists to do that shit. I didn’t even paint my own nails before I started going to Degrassi.”

Alli raised an eyebrow and grumbled, “Well, excuse me.”

“We should do each other’s nails, yours always look so gorgeous,” Becky said.

Zoë softened just a little and gave Becky a smile. “Yeah, sure.”

The game went on like this for a little while longer, Zoë coming up with “Never have I ever given a blowie” as her third turn, which fit much better with the tone of the game than her first two turns. She took a small break from the game to go to the restroom, and when she came out of the door she almost ran smack dab into Imogen, who was standing right outside the door with a shit-eating grin on her face.

“I get it now. You _like_ her.” 

“Excuse me?” Zoë asked, her heart racing.

“Becky. You have a crush on _Becky_! See, I couldn’t figure it out, why you wanted to hang around her all of a sudden. It made no sense. I thought maybe you were going to do something else awful to her, like when you told her about Drew and Clare, maybe as revenge for Luke or something. Becky’s too trusting, and she’s my girl so I have to protect her. You kept not doing anything, though, and it was really making me paranoid. But now I get it. I mean, it’s weird, but now I don’t have to worry about you trying to break her other leg.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Zoë said, jutting out her chin and glaring at Imogen as fiercely as she could.

Imogen just kept grinning at her, the bitch. “You don’t have to worry, I won’t tell her. And she’ll never guess, she’s terribly naïve. Anyway, blah blah blah, best friend “don’t hurt her” speech, she’s not into girls so don’t get mad at her for that.”

“ _I’m_ not into girls!” Zoë hissed, her fists clenched at her sides as she took an angry step toward Imogen. This finally got Imogen’s grin to fade, replaced with a look of confusion and concern.

“I don’t _think_ I’m wrong… so does this mean Becks is your first girl crush?”

“Shut. UP!” Zoë said, and she shoved passed Imogen and ran back down the stairs and out the front door, ignoring the surprised, “Zoë?” from Becky as she ran through the hallway in her escape.


	9. Chapter 9

It was past eleven and the night air was cold as Zoë ran down the street and stopped at the corner. She couldn’t walk home, it was way too far. She pulled out her phone and started to load the Uber app when she heard heels behind her. She knew who it was before turning, and she furiously scrubbed at her face to get rid of any stray tears that might have fallen without her noticing.

“Zoë, what was that? Did Imogen say something mean?”

Becky’s voice was soft and coaxing, so much so that it almost succeeded in getting Zoë to drop her guard and turn back around. Only Zoë’s defensive nature kept her from allowing Becky to see just how freaked out she was. She fiddled with her phone, giving herself a few extra needed seconds to put her game face back on, before she turned around. Becky’s eyes were wide with worry and Zoë hated the spark of happiness that welled inside her when she realized just how much Becky cared about her wellbeing.

“She doesn’t like me very much,” Zoë replied. It didn’t answer Becky’s question directly, but it was at least the truth. Zoë was very good at pulling out half truths to distract people.

“I’m so sorry, Zo. She just doesn’t know you very well.”

Zoë wrapped her arms around herself and tapped her phone against her side, the Uber app still open. “Not many people do.”

Becky gave Zoë a sad look. In Zoë’s mind it read as a silent “And who’s fault is that?”, though she knew Becky would never say that to her with mean intent. 

“Do you want me to drive you home? I think the game of Never Have I Ever was winding down anyway, Clare and Alli both went back downstairs.”

“I don’t want to take you away from your party. I can get an Uber.”

“No way! Zoë, I drove you here, I’ll drive you home. I can just come back.”

Zoë rolled her eyes. “Becky, that’s a complete waste of your time. I’ll be fine, promise.”

Becky’s face set in a stubborn pout. “No. Zoë Rivas, whenever you want to go home I’ll be driving you home. I want to make sure you get home safely.”

Zoë couldn’t argue with Becky’s resolve face, and she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to push away the concern and care that Becky extended to her, even if it was purely friendly gestures. She didn’t get concern and care often. So when she did, it both mystified and thrilled her.

“I’m not going to make you drive to mine and back here. I can stick it out. I’ll just…” Zoë made a face at the prospect of being near Imogen again. “Avoid Imogen.”

“She owes you an apology.”

Zoë froze. She really didn’t want Becky involved in what had happened between her and Imogen, since it had been _about_ Becky. “You don’t even know what she said. I might not need an apology.”

“The way you reacted, that wasn’t just something tame. She hurt your feelings. That’s not okay.”

Zoë ducked her head. “I promise, it’s fine.”

But Becky’s face was still set in a stubborn pout, and when she reached out her hand Zoë found herself taking it, as if her brain had no choice in the matter as her hand sought out the warmth and comfort of Becky’s grip.

They walked back to the party and Zoë noticed immediately that there were new people in the living room now, all the players of the Never Have I Ever Game having relocated downstairs again. Zoë followed Becky down, still holding onto her hand. Zoë felt terribly weak and pathetic, having caved so easily and letting herself being around Becky when it was clearly a bad idea, but a bigger part of her brain thrilled for every second that she was connected to Becky.

Imogen saw them and upon seeing the look on Becky’s face she immediately tried to hide, but Becky grabbed her with her free hand and said, “I don’t know what you said, and I know you two don’t get along, but you have to apologize, Immy.”

Imogen looked at Zoë and Zoë wouldn’t meet her eyes. She couldn’t. If she did she’d see the truth there, she’d pull her hand from Becky’s and she didn’t want to do that. She braced herself for what Imogen was going to say, probably something teasing or sarcastic.

“Sorry, Zoë.”

Zoë’s gaze shot up to meet Imogen’s, she was so started. Imogen gave her a small smile. She didn’t say anything else.

“It’s okay,” Zoë said in a low voice, trying to keep herself calm.

Becky squealed happily and let go of Zoë’s hand to grab Imogen and Zoë in a simultaneous hug.

The night wore on and people got more drunk, even Clare and her crew, and soon Becky and Zoë were the only sober teens still at the party. When someone threw up on the floor right in front of them Becky clapped her hands and turned to Zoë, eyes bright and false with cheerfulness. “Okay! I need a break. Come with?”

Zoë nodded, secretly extremely relieved, and the two of them practically jogged up the stairs. The living room had more kids in it and Becky motioned for Zoë to follow her away from them.

They went to the second floor and Becky opened a door that had a piece of printer paper taped on it with the words “DO NOT ENTER” scrawled on it. Zoë raised an eyebrow at Becky.

“It’s Drew’s parent’s room,” Becky explained with a grin. “He doesn’t want people having sex in his parents bed. Understandable, but not what we’re going to be doing. We just need a breather from all the others, and we’ll be polite and careful. Come on.”

“Breaking rules,” Zoë laughed. “A side to Becky that rarely is seen.”

“Oh I’m bad, I’m a breaker of many things!”

The two girls went in and closed the door behind them. Zoë stood uncertainly at the door as Becky crossed over to an end table and reached out a hand, her finger stroking a face in a family photo displayed there. _Adam_. Zoë looked away. It was almost too intimate to watch. After a few moments Becky’s voice rang out. “Come sit with me!”

Zoë turned back and joined Becky on the queen bed. In wordless agreement they both swung their legs up onto the bedspread and put their heads on the pillows, turning to each other and giggling.

Zoë was struck by the urge to kiss Becky and squashed it down hard.

They talked for hours. About Becky’s future plans, her experiences at Degrassi that Zoë didn’t know about (“I can’t believe you watched ALL the porn, Becky. What a wild ride that must have been.”), and they talked about Zoë. Zoë wasn’t used to talking to herself in a more personal light. She talked about her career easily and without even thinking about it. But herself? That was different. That wasn’t PR, that was… something else. 

Zoë told Becky about not knowing who her dad was, about her earliest memories being work, about her mom telling her over and over how many sacrifices she’d made for Zoë to get roles, how it was just her and her mom.

She didn’t explain that this was why she was so desperate to please her mother, despite the nearly impossible expectations. Zoë thought maybe Becky might have figured that out.

They talked and talked until they were both tired. At some point, Zoë closed her eyes. She didn’t know how long she napped, but it was long enough for a dream to form. A bad one that left Zoë gasping, squirming to get away. She woke to Becky’s calming voice in her ear, fingers lacing through hers, squeezing. Zoë came back to a gentle reality where Becky smiled down at her reassuringly, worry making her forehead wrinkle.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Zoë breathed out. “Thanks.”

“Of course, Zo. We should probably head out, the party is winding down and I want to sleep in my own bed. Don’t you?”

_Not particularly_. “Yeah.”

Imogen was silly drunk, tripping over her feet and giggling as Becky gathered her up and poured her into the back seat of her car. She kept giggling the entire car ride to her house. Becky dropped her off first and Zoë helped Becky carry Imogen up the walkway, the two of them on either side with Imogen’s arms draped over their shoulders. Becky knew where the spare key to Imogen’s house was and the two sober girls were giggling themselves as they dragged Imogen up the stairs and helped her into bed still fully dressed. Becky took off Imogen’s shoes and left it at that, giving her a sweet kiss on the forehead as Imogen almost immediately dropped off to sleep.

While Becky drove Zoë home they didn’t talk, but it wasn’t awkward. It was nice, a comfortable silence where Zoë felt like she didn’t have to posture and preen to fill the gaps. She could relax, stop holding herself so tightly.

“When does summer school start?” Becky asked when they pulled up to Zoë’s house. Zoë had to go to summer school for science after failing more than one crucial test while she was dealing with the drama of the year.

“Three weeks from now. Then it goes up until a week before school starts again.”

“So you have some freedom. Wanna hang out until then?”

“Yeah, sure,” Zoë said, trying and failing to sound blasé. “That’d be cool.”

“I’m busy the next few days with family celebrations and stuff, but I’ll text you!”

“Kay." 

Becky leaned over for a hug and then kissed Zoë on the cheek.

Zoë practically floated up to her door.


	10. Chapter 10

They didn’t hang out for the next four days, both busy with their own things. Becky had family flying in all the way from Florida to celebrate her graduation, and Zoë had to go in to find out what the DA was deciding to do about her Degrassi Nudes business. In light of Zoë’s earlier struggles, the DA decided not to press charges and counted her time in the Degrassi cafeteria as time served for any community service they would have recommended to the court. Zoë left her lawyer’s office with a substantial weight lifted off her shoulders and got congratulatory texts from Tristan and Becky when she told them.

She tried sending the news to some of her fellow Power Cheer members, but she was blocked by most and ignored by the rest.

On day five of being out of school they met up at The Dot and had a coffee. It was brief but Zoë was over-the-moon happy for the time with Becky.

Then Zoë’s mom announced that, in light of Zoë’s freedom from any consequences, she was going out of town to go see if she could rustle up a new agent for Zoë somewhere outside of Toronto. All of their bridges in Toronto were currently burned, but her mom was convinced that if Zoë booked some new gigs that would be water under the bridge and they could find a local agent again. Until then, they’d have to shop out-of-area. Zoë knew that meant a lot of schmoozing, her mom staking out in offices and dressing up and buying dinner for agents to get them to even consider Zoë as a client.

It also meant that her mom might be sleeping with a few people to get her a gig, which always made Zoë feel uncomfortable. People slept around in the industry, it was just how some of the deals were made. Zoë had been able to dodge that bullet so far in here career (despite there being more than a few nasty rumors on the West Drive set), but her mother had not. It was an unspoken part of the whole “sacrifices” talk, and Zoë didn’t like thinking about it.

The first night Zoë’s mom was gone she invited Becky over. Becky was understandably relieved to hear Mama Rivas was not coming home at any point and they could watch a movie in peace, but she didn’t miss how Zoë fidgeted, how she stared at her phone, how she tried hard to look neutral but kept biting at her nails. Zoë forgot how observant Becky was of her, so when Becky asked, “Hey, you okay?” her look of shock was genuine and hard to cover up.

“I’m fine. Just- stressed about getting a new agent, that’s all.”

“Oh, right, that’s why your mom is out of town. Do you want a new agent?”

“No,” Zoë said without even thinking about it. She blinked and blushed, staring down at her phone again. “I mean, of course I do but- maybe not like… right now.”

“Zoë, you don’t have to be an actress if you want take a break. I know school hasn’t been easy for you so maybe you do want to get back on set, but if you really don’t you shouldn’t force yourself.”

Zoë didn’t look at Becky, staring at her phone screen until it blacked out. “I’ve only ever been an actress. That’s what I am. How can I just stop? …who am I without it?”

“You’re Zoë freaking Rivas!” Becky said, folding her legs up under her so she could lean towards Zoë more dramatically. “You’re clever and funny and tough as nails. And you’re learning who you are without all the glitz and glam, and I think without that you’re pretty darn cool.”

Zoë looked up and cracked a smile. “Oh, am I? Pretty darn cool?”

Becky laughed. “Darn tootin’!”

Both girls started giggling. When they stopped, Zoë looked down at her phone apprehensively one last time. Becky tilted her head.

“Hey, want me to stay over for the night? Keep you company?”

“Yes,” Zoë breathed out, relieved that she didn’t have to ask, didn’t have to seem pathetic. “Yes, please.”

Becky was much taller than Zoë but she was able to borrow some shorts and one of Zoë’s longer pajama t-shirts. Zoë didn’t know exactly how sleepovers worked, this would be her first, but from West Drive she had gleaned there were either sleeping bags involved or girls could sleep in the same bed. This was confirmed when Becky said, “We don’t have to share the bed, I can sleep on the couch.”

“No, we can share,” Zoë said, turning around to hide her face as it turned pink. Time to squash those nasty perve thoughts and just have a nice sleepover with her friend.

It took Zoë an extra hour to get to sleep, she was so aware of Becky’s closeness, the warmth of her. It had been different at the Torres house. That had been accidental dozing off, and it had most certainly not been _Zoë’s bed_. But as it turned out she didn’t have to worry, because when she eventually drifted off nothing terrible happened and she woke well rested and giddy.

The girls made pancakes and goofed off all morning before Becky headed back home.

Two nights later Zoë invited Becky again. Just like that. Just like she’d done it a million times before, like she was a natural at this sleepover stuff. Becky agreed and they had another awesome night, though this time Zoë woke up from a nightmare halfway through the night and had to be woken up by Becky, who went to get her water and gave her a quick hug.

Zoë suspected that Becky knew what the nightmares were about, but neither of them said a word.

Becky ended up coming over to sleep five nights and Zoë had nightmares on three of them. With only four more days to go before summer school started and her mom got back, Zoë invited Becky over for what she figured was one final time. Getting to hang out with Becky almost nonstop for two weeks had been bliss, but real life was catching up to them.

The sixth sleepover went the same way as all the rest. Movies and chatter, making dinner together, Becky braiding Zoë’s hair into two little pigtail braids that Zoë ended up falling asleep in. When Becky woke Zoë up from her nightmare this time, she had still been awake, typing away at her computer at Zoë’s desk. Becky went to grab her some water, like usual, and Zoë sat up and tried to stop her hands from shaking.

There was a small ping notification. Becky must have been talking to someone before she’d had to wake up Zoë. It was so late, Zoë wondered who she could possibly be messaging and, curiosity getting the better of her, she slid out from under the covers and went to check.

It was a chat with Imogen, who had been on vacation with her mom.

Zoë’s eyes drifted down to the last message exchange and she felt her stomach lurch.

Becky’s last messages had been: _“I can hear Zoë start to toss and turn, she’s having another nightmare.”_

_“Gotta go wake her up.”_

_“I feel so guilty. She’s messed up because of my family.”_

_“I just want to fix this so bad."_  

And Imogen had answered: _“I think she was probs messed up before.”_

_“You don’t gotta fix anything, boo.”_

Zoë felt her heart shrivel and harden.

Was that why Becky hung out with her? To fix what her brother had done? Did Becky even _like_ Zoë?

Besides the nightmares, Zoë had barely thought about Luke in weeks. She had gone entire days without Luke Baker crossing her waking mind. And still all Becky thought of her was that she was “messed up”. That she was something that had to be fixed.

She had crushed on Becky Baker so hard, and all Becky saw was a charity case.

She crawled back into bed, her face stony when Becky returned with water. Becky gave her a concerned (pitying) look and handed her the glass. “Here you go. Feeling better?”

“Yes,” Zoë said, though her voice was hollow.

Becky nodded and sat down next to her. She put a hand on Zoë’s shoulder and started to stroke her thumb.

It infuriated Zoë. 

Suddenly Zoë had put down the glass and was straddling Becky, her hands on Becky’s shoulders pinning her to the bed. If Becky was just here to fix Zoë, she might as well get what she wanted out of it. She leaned down and kissed Becky full on the lips, and when Becky tried to push her away Zoë dug in her nails and resisted for a few seconds before finally letting up.

“Zoë, what are you doing?” Becky asked, panting and pale. 

“I’m just some project to you,” Zoë snapped. “I’ve been totally head over heels and you don’t even like me, you just want to not feel guilty about what your brother did!”

Becky gasped, her eyes flicking to the computer. “Zoë, that’s not true, I-“

“I’m not some pathetic, needy victim! I don’t need you coddling me because you want to feel better!” Zoë said, fingers still biting into Becky’s shoulders. “That isn’t what I want from you, this is what I want, and if you want to help you can help me this way!”

“I- I don’t want this, Zo,” Becky stammered.

“Well that doesn’t really matter, does it? It never mattered. I can just take what I want. That’s what everyone else does. I’ll do what I want to you, and then we’re even.”

Becky’s tone wasn’t angry, it wasn’t even particularly sad. It was just so tired, and so understanding, just one word. “Zoë.”

Zoë reeled back, throwing herself off of Becky and hiding her face. No, no, god no, she wasn’t- she hadn’t meant-

She would never have. Never, never.

She was a monster.

She sobbed into her hands, confused and hating herself and waiting for God to strike her down, but nothing happened. The room was silent. Becky didn’t get near her, but she didn’t leave either. She just sat up and waited.

Zoë’s crying took a while to settle, for almost an hour it was frantic, heart wrenching, full body sobs. Becky didn’t move a muscle. When Zoë finally was breathing more normally, Becky scooted closer, and a hand gently rested on her shoulder. Zoë threw herself into Becky’s side, wrapping one arm around her and leaving the other one against her own chest because she was so aware of how much she didn’t want to make Becky feel trapped or scared or anything like that. “I’m so sorry,” she got out.

Becky wrapped both arms around Zoë and stroked her hair. “I know. I know you are.”

“I wouldn’t have.”

“I know that, too.”

.

They had a long talk after that.

Becky, obviously, had some questions. Do you like me (“Yes”), since when (“Since the first time you came over”), do you like girls (“I don’t know”). Lots of things that Zoë didn’t want to talk about but owed Becky explanations for.

When Becky asked if Zoë had ever liked a girl before her she shook and shook and shook her head, as if both to deny it and dislodge the thoughts from her head.

Finally, Zoë had looked at Becky with tear filled eyes and said, “I can’t, I can’t like girls. My mom would kill me.” 

Becky had nodded at this and hadn’t said anything to try to convince her that her mother might understand.

Becky hadn’t left, to Zoë’s amazement. People always left, but Becky stayed the night and even into the morning, helping Zoë make breakfast and leaving after eating. She gave Zoë a tight hug right before walking out the door and Zoë couldn’t fathom it.

Becky should hate her, but she didn’t.

Becky should find her disgusting, but she didn’t.

She seemed to sense that Zoë couldn’t talk about it, not yet, maybe not ever. So she didn’t push. Zoë knew that Becky must be so confused, but Zoë knew that she was such a good person that she would put Zoë’s feelings first.

How had she ever made such a selfless friend when she was so selfish?

Becky made her want to try and be better, and maybe one day she could do it if she had friends like Becky and Tristan in her corner. If she finally, finally had people who would love her despite all her flaws and the poison in her veins.

.

The day before summer school started, Becky came over. Zoë knew it might be one of the last times she’d see her before Becky went off to college because they were both about to become incredibly busy. It filled Zoë with no small amount of anxiety to think of Becky leaving, because even if it wasn’t leaving her because she was Zoë, she was leaving and might not keep in contact. Zoë knew she’d miss her so much in person, missing her completely would just break Zoë’s heart.

“I’ll text, you goober. Don’t be silly,” Becky assured when Zoë admitted this in her round-about Zoë way.

“Don’t feel obligated, I’m not gonna keep you from your new life of adventure,” Zoë said.

Becky actually rolled her eyes. “Don’t give me that. I know you’re saying that as a just-in-case because you want to be able to tell yourself you gave me permission to vanish if I do. Well I won’t, and you don’t have to do that. And it honestly hurts my feelings that you’re giving yourself that, that you don’t have faith in me.”

Zoë blushed and looked down. Becky gave her a gentle smile. “But I understand, too,” Becky continued. “You don’t want to be hurt. Zoë Rivas, I don’t ever plan to hurt you. I’m sorry I can’t like you the way you like me, but let me tell you something, okay? I’m grateful to have you in my life. You’re a good friend, Zo, and I plan on keeping you around.”

Becky leaned forward so that her nose was almost touching Zoë’s and she wrinkled it playfully. “And one day, Ms. Zoë, you are going to meet an amazing person, and they are going to love you for exactly who you are and you’re gonna fall _so much harder_ for them than for me it’ll knock your socks off.”

Zoë noticed that Becky used gender neutral pronouns and for some reason it felt like her heart expanded to fill her chest with warmth. 

Becky leaned in for a hug and Zoë took it, closing her eyes and this time, despite still having a crush on Becky, she didn’t feel the urge to kiss her. She just relished the hug, the love and warmth that radiated from Becky Baker, her friend.

Becky leaned back and kissed Zoë’s cheek lightly and Zoë didn’t even want more.

“So!” Becky said cheerfully, her eyes sparkling, “Are you nervous for summer school?”

“Nah. I’ll have Tristan. What could possibly happen?”

 

The End


End file.
